Poker Face (4 page)

Drew gave Birdie a wink. “I came for the food, not the company.
Birdie’s cooking can make a man suffer through about anything.”

The room went silent.

All eyes were focused on Megan, even Birdie stopped by the sink to
stare at her, though her expression was one of pity. Megan was thick-skinned.
They needed somebody to hate. Oh well, let it be her.

Tink wore a heavy, gray beard, suspenders to hold up his pants and
kind of wobbled as he walked. His hands were drawn in a way that you just knew
was painful. He dropped down in the seat beside Megan, draped an arm over her
shoulder, and tucked her in close to his side. Her nose scrunched as she
distinctly smelled the body odor rising from under his wet arm pits. “I’m just
teasing. You’re okay. We’re not going to hogtie you to a stake and cook you. ”

“At least not today,” Drew muttered.

Tink released her. His flat palm came down hard on the table top
causing Megan to almost come up out of her seat. “Birdie, what’s for dinner?”
He called.

Before Megan had time to process all of the sounds and commotion
in the room. Dishes were being placed on the table, platters of steaming food
were brought out. A pitcher of iced tea was passed around. Emma was there. Ms.
Susan and Griffin too. Suddenly the long country table felt extremely cramped.
Megan drew her elbows in, crunched in between Tink and Griffin. The room was
stuffy from all the cooking that had taken place over the span of the
afternoon, not to mention the six people sucking up useable oxygen as they
talked. Of course she was excluded from their conversation. Just as well.

“Want some?” Tink stuck a bowl under her nose, his crippled
hands—fingers all contorted—held the bowl steady as any man with the full use
of his hands. Whatever was in the bowl smelled tasty, but looked horrible, like
someone had already chewed it up and spit it out.

“What is it?” She eyed the slop as she poked at it with the
serving spoon.

“Country style steak. Nice and tender. Ever had any?” Tink
inquired.

She shook her head still peering into the bowl with a crinkled
nose. “What’s stuck to it?”

Elbows propped on the table, Drew jabbed the prongs of his fork in
her general direction. Irritation was apparent on his face. “It’s Gravy! It’s
not going to kill you. Stop complaining and just eat it!”

“You don’t ever turn up a nose at a woman’s cooking.” Birdie
added.

Tink leaned in, “Trust me….you don’t want to hurt that woman’s
feelings. I done that once, spent weeks going hungry. I had to resort to
catching crickets outside. They got a mighty crunch to um, their little legs
are the problem, got um caught in-between my teeth. ”

Birdie laughed, “Oh, stop fibbing. Everybody knows you’ve never
missed a meal.”

Everyone watched Megan waiting for her response, except for Drew,
who was already shoveling food into his mouth. Megan shook her head. “No
thanks, I’ll just eat a salad.”

“Suit yourself,” Tink said sitting the bowl back in the center of
the table.

They all told jokes. Laughed. Made conversation. Enjoying each
other’s company after a long day. Megan kept quiet, ate and listened. No one
would ever suspect they’d just been told they no longer have a home. Life went
on. And so did the tall tales at the table. She caught herself watching Drew as
he told his share of bullshit, his hands were always as descriptive as his
words. The genuine smile he shared with his five friends had her feeling a
twinge of jealously.

“Birdie…. that was one fine meal!” Tink commented rocking back in
his chair rubbing his bloated belly.

Noticing a break in the conversation, Megan jumped in, “Why do
they call you Tink… if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Drew came up with the name. Says I’m always tinkering with
something, disassembling it, although my damn hands slow me down these days.”

“And Birdie?”

“Well Drew came up with that one too.”

Drew grinned across the table at Birdie, “It was better than the
alternative.”

“What was the alternative?” Megan inquired.

“Big Roberta,” Drew teased.

Tink draped an arm over her shoulder again bringing back the musky
smell of body odor. “Consider yourself lucky, if that one over there ever
decides to give you a nickname….means you’ve graduated to “special” status with
him. Few rarely get the honor.” He clicked his tongue.

“Yeah, few rarely get the honor of being pain in the asses!” Drew
snapped although his cheeks told a different story as they heightened with
color. He shifted in his chair taking a huge gulp of ice tea.

“He loves us….just don’t want to admit it.”

Drew made some grumbling sounds and went back to eating.

Megan should have left well-enough alone. Drew was the one being
drug behind the horse, so to speak. But then she had to open her big mouth
causing the entire room to go silent. “Why doesn’t Griffin ever talk?” She
looked to Emma for an answer, since the young girl was the one that hung around
him the most, but it wasn’t Emma that answered.

“Can’t,” Tink said and was about to explain when Drew cut him off
with shake of his head.

“Don’t….now’s not the time to talk about this.”

Megan studied the boy with his messy dark hair and thin features
sitting to her left. He looked around sixteen, and was an attractive boy with
full lips and tan skin, but there was something definitely going on with him.
Her voice dropped to a hush, “Shouldn’t he be like… in a home or something for
people with
special
needs?”

A fork full of country style steak came to a halt hovering near
Drew’s down-turned mouth. He threw her a look of belief. “He’s fine. It’s you
who needs to be in a home for people with “special” needs.”

“Me? Why, because I speak the truth? What none of you are willing
to face?”

The tension in the room stretched to the point of snapping. Birdie
shifted in her chair. Griffin slowly chewed his food as if the conversation
around him didn’t have squat to do with him. Tink hung on every word with a
shady smile waiting for a full blown fight.

Emma looked near tears.

How dare Drew cut her down in front of everyone at the table. He
didn’t know her. Megan felt her cheeks burning. She took a swallow of tea
wishing she could fish out an ice cube to cool her forehead and cheeks, maybe
then she wouldn’t have the overwhelming desire to walk around the table and
claw Drew’s eyes out.

‘Charm’ my ass, the guy didn’t have a clue what the word meant, and
he definitely didn’t have any.

Drew had yet to take a bite. He stared across the table at her.
“You don’t have a filter, do you?”

“A filter?”

“Yeah… to keep you from saying the first stupid thing that pops
into your head!”

Tink laid a comforting hand on Megan’s shoulder. Or maybe he
sensed she was about to rise up out of her chair and the hand was there to hold
her in her seat. Emma spoke, “Don’t think he’s dumb, because he can’t talk. He
hears and understands everything you’re saying.”

To prove the point Griffin gave Megan a lopsided grin. A smile
that said he took no offense to her questions.

“I better get to cleaning these dishes,” Birdie exclaimed her
chair squealing across the floor as she came to her feet. She stacked plates in
the crook of her arm carrying them over to the sink. The other’s followed suit,
and before long the kitchen was back to being quiet.

Later, Megan found Drew in his room, or what was now her new room.
She couldn’t wait to crawl under the covers and sleep until noon. “What are you
doing?” she snapped not sure she liked him anywhere near her things.

“Getting a blanket for the couch, and a few of my things. That
okay?” Drew stepped quietly to not disturb the others in the house. He went
around the room doing just what he said, collecting some of his belongings. He
said, “Listen, we may have gotten off to a bad start. I think we should forget
everything, and start over. No sense making this harder than it has to be.”

She paused by the door. “I agree.”

Hands full, he brushed past her, stopping in the doorway. Bodies
less than an inch apart, their eyes met for a brief moment. His where brown as
a delectable piece of sweet, forbidden chocolate. Long dark lashes complemented
the color well. Someday, some simple-minded girl would find herself lost in
those eyes. Too bad the guy didn’t possess a single quality that would keep a
girl.

“Drew, I am sorry for kicking you out of your room. Really, I am.”
Her tone was boarding sarcastic. Yeah, she could play nice, but she didn’t buy
his whole “lets forgive and forget” attitude. “I wish things were different. In
a perfect world, you and your friends would still have a home, I wouldn’t be
here and none of this would be happening. I’m doing you all a huge favor by
forcing you to move on. You can’t remain idle forever. Not at my expense. You
do understand, don’t you?”

“That’s awful nice of you… thinking of us.” His eyes dipped down
to the swell of her breast visible in her low-cut tank top. “If you really want
to help, you might want to try putting on some actual clothes tomorrow. The men
around here aren’t blind. It’s misleading to give a man any ideas, if you’re
not prepared to let them sample the goods.”

“You know….for about five minutes, I actually felt sorry for you.
You don’t deserve my pity.”

“I don’t want your pity.” He noticed how fast her breast rose the
angrier she became. Quick breaths he felt the warmth of, but refused to respond
to. She was a cold, heartless bitch. He suspected anything halfway intimate
with her would be like trying to take a rattlesnake by the tail.

Day Two

[Whack! Whack!]

The claw end of the hammer busted its way through the old wall, a
small slither of the adjacent room showed through. Muscles flared as Robbie
jerked a huge piece of sheet rock free. Pieces crumbled to the old linoleum
floor. Then another. [Whack!] The claw met resistant’s. He shook the stuck
piece until the rusty nails let go of the termite infested studs.

Robbie talked while he worked, “I think you’re making the right
decision here. Taking out this wall will open this bathroom up dramatically.
It’ll give the new owners a good size bath on the first floor. Once we add that
second bath and dining room off the back like we talked about, you’ll be able
to ask a lot more for this place.”

The faraway words gnawed at Drew’s subconscious, a flicker of
annoyance. He shifted. Flat on his stomach on the most uncomfortable couch in
the world, he opened one eye, the other eye buried in a folded pillow. Assuming
it was all just a bad dream he shut his eyes. Quiet. Finally! His fingers came
up to relieve a tickle under his nose. One long leg dangled off the side of the
couch, out from under the too short blanket revealing a bare foot. He was
seconds away from drifting off, when it started again. Every blow of the hammer
made him flinch and groan. Bloodshot eyes soaked up his surroundings: the
bright morning sun, the fresh coffee on the end table by the couch. His lips
gave way to a smile, even though he felt as he hadn’t slept more than an hour.
Birdie was such a jewel, always taking care of everybody.

[Whack! Whack!]

Who the hell would be bold enough to make so much racket in the
morning? He glanced at the clock and was shocked to see he’d slept until 9:22
am.

Then he heard her voice, “I agree Robbie. I can’t wait for you to
yank that stupid toilet up! I’m thinking maybe we should put the new one over
here. What do you think? Maybe close it in with walls and put a door leading to
it. The added privacy would be nice.”