The Slam (6 page)

Chapter Five

ENDER

At 7 A.M. I woke up to the sound of loud chatter and kitchen cabinets banging shut. Rolling over, I punched my pillow then got out of bed and stalked into the kitchen.

Adelaide was yapping away on her new iPhone and rummaging through the cabinets.

Clearing my throat loudly, I said, “Can I help you find something?”

Pivoting around, she met my gaze and sighed into the phone. “Uh-oh. I’ve got to go now. Ender’s awake and he doesn’t look too happy with me.” There was a short pause as she listened to the person on the other end. “Okay,” she said. “I promise.” Another pause. “Tootle-oo. I love you, too.”

My jaw went rigid. “Who was that?”

“Camille,” she replied. “And she made me promise not to poke the angry bear.” She bit back a laugh. “I think she means you.” Then she turned her back to me and resumed rummaging through the cabinets, humming softly to herself.

I scowled. “What are you looking for?”

“A toaster.”

My scowl deepened. “There’s a toaster sitting right there on the counter.”

“That’s a toaster oven,” she said pointedly. “I’m looking for a toaster.”

I dragged a hand through my hair and exhaled. “I think you’ll find one in that cabinet on your right. Look toward the back.”

“Ah!” she exclaimed. “Found it!”

In less than a minute the pop-up toaster was plugged in and she started adjusting the dial. “Two hundred and eighteen seconds,” she murmured to herself.

I walked behind the counter and began busying myself with the coffee machine. “And how do you determine that?”

“On a typical 900-watt appliance—like this toaster—the result is achieved by setting the dial to five out of six to produce a temperature of one hundred and fifty-four degrees Celsius. It gives toast the ultimate balance of external crunch and internal softness.”

I said nothing and she gave me a wide berth as I began moving around the kitchen.

“And why not use
this
toaster?” I slid two slices of bread onto the slot and set the timer to two minutes. “Instead of
that
one.”

“It helps curtail excessive moisture loss
and
it uses a lot less energy than a toaster oven.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, it is so,” she went on merrily. “If you want to calculate how much it’d cost you to run a toaster oven each year, you’d simply multiply the appliance’s wattage times the number of hours used per day times the number of days used per year. Divide the product by a thousand to get the number of kilowatt-hours used annually. Then multiply the number of kilowatt-hours by your electricity rate in dollar per kilowatt-hour, typically around $0.12 per kWh.”

I took a moment to consider her words. “So you’re telling me that using a 1,000-watt toaster for ten minutes a day would cost about seven dollars per year in electricity if my electricity rate was twelve cents per kilowatt-hours?”

“Correct,” she confirmed.

“Adelaide,” I said slowly.

“Yeah?”

“I could give zero fucks about seven fucking dollars. Use the damn toaster oven. I don’t need more appliances cluttering up the counter.”

A frown replaced her earlier smile. “But I always use a regular toaster.”

I said nothing.

“Can I use a regular toaster?” She turned a pair of puppy eyes on me. “Please?”

“Fine!” I snapped and poured myself some coffee. This was only her second day here and already she was cluttering up my kitchen and my lifestyle.

Meanwhile, Adelaide’s toast popped up with a loud ping and she promptly spread on butter and some thick, blackish paste.

“The hell is that?” I said. “Is it tar?”

“Vegemite. It’s a yeast extract. It might look like tar but it tastes like home. You want to try some?”

“Nope,” I said, popping the P sound.

“I get it,” she said, nodding earnestly. “After all, there’s nothing in American culinary history that gives you the frame of reference for processing the edibility potential for yeast extract, but trust me, it’s really good.”

“Trust me,” I said firmly. “I’m fine with not tasting it.”

Abruptly, she burst into song. “We’re happy little Vegemites, as bright as can be. We all enjoy our Vegemite for breakfast, lunch, and tea!” She smiled. “You remember that song?”

I shook my head. “Anyway,” I said, “shouldn’t you stay away from yeast extract? Since women hate contracting…” I trailed off. “You know…”

Clarity descended on her. “Oh, it’s not what you think. You’re mistaking yeast extract as being the substance that causes vaginal yeast infections, but that is not the case. Yeast extracts are usually grown on mixtures of molasses and cane sugar, deactivated and then pasteurized in the final stages. They don’t contain the Candida species nor are they able to reproduce and cause yeast infections. The kind of yeast you’re referring to grow naturally all over your body, but it especially loves dark and damp nooks and crannies. So it’s often found in fat folds and in warm and moist creased areas like the armpits and groins. Men can also develop infections on the head of the penis if they aren’t circumcised. Basically, wherever there is sugar or carbohydrates, which the body has, the yeast will feed on that.”

Edric chose that moment to saunter into the kitchen. “Yeast?” He smirked. “You have a fungal infection in your groin?” He stared at me with a smug-ass smile. “Jock itch?”

“No,” I said at once. “
Fuck
, no.”

Edric cut his gaze to Adelaide, his eyebrows lifting in a question. “You?”

“Negative,” she answered. “I was just explaining that yeast extracts are not the same substance that causes yeast infections.”

“I see.” Edric scratched his chin. “How did you guys even get started on this topic?”

I rubbed my temples. “Don’t ask.”

Of course, that prompted Edric to ask Adelaide, which prompted her to tell him all about it.

I cut her off mid-sentence. “Adelaide,” I said shortly. “Not that we all don’t enjoy a yeast-filled discussion, but let’s skip it for now, all right.”

“But,” she said feebly, “Edric asked me!”

“I don’t give a fuck if he asked you.”

She looked puzzled at the anger in my voice.

I exhaled slowly. How was it possible that she was so smart and so fucking clueless at the same time?

“Listen.” I clenched my jaw and forced calmness into my voice when I spoke again. “I know you love talking about things you know. But not everyone wants to hear it. Edric just gets a kick out of annoying me; he could care less about yeast extracts. So if you have something to say about a topic, keep it short. One or two sentences will do. Got it?”

“Got it, Coach!” Adelaide took a large bite of her toast and sat down at the kitchen table. It didn’t take me long to notice she was studying me with narrowed eyes.

“What?” I asked. “What?”

She took another bite of her toast and said, “I’ve noticed you clench your jaw a lot. You may think it’s attractive but you’re actually damaging your teeth.”

My brother didn’t speak for a minute. His face was completely unreadable except for a tiny muscle that fluttered in and out at the base of his jaw.

A beat passed.

Then another.

Suddenly he burst out laughing like a spaz, collapsing onto the chair in front of Adelaide with the grace of a large beast. “I think you’re my favorite person now.”

“Why, thank you,” she said sweetly. “You’re my favorite person, too, Edric. You and Ender.”

“
And
,” my brother went on, “not only does Ender clench his jaw a lot, he’s always scowling like he’s just stepped in dog shit and frowning like someone just pissed in his Cheerios.”

“I
know
,” Adelaide remarked. “I
have
noticed his perma-frown. And that’s too bad because it takes seventeen muscles to smile and forty-three muscles to frown.”

It annoyed me to be talked about as if I weren’t even there.

“So,” Edric asked her, “you ready for college to start next week?”

“I think so,” she said, reaching for her laptop and booting it up. “I registered for all my classes yesterday.”

“How many credits are you taking?”

“Eighteen,” she replied absently as she scanned her laptop screen.

Curious, I looked over her shoulder and checked out her course load. “Genetics, Genomics, and Development. “Hey.” I rubbed my chin. “I’m taking that course, too.”

Her eyes flicked to mine. “With Professor Kingsley?”

“Yep. I guess we’ll be in the same class.” I jerked my chin at Edric. “You should take it, too! Then we can all be in the same class like one big happy family.”

He didn’t miss the sarcasm in my voice. Edric laughed. A
ha-ha-ha just kill me now
laugh. “Thanks but
no thanks
,” he said. “Shit, I don’t wanna talk about classes right now.”

Without looking up from her laptop, Adelaide said, “What would you like to talk about, Edric?”

“Snowboarding,” he said. “When are we gonna shred Mt. Hood?”

I checked my watch. “I say we leave in about an hour.”

“We?” Adelaide glanced up from her laptop. “Am I going, too?”

I was about to say no, when Edric said, “Sure! It’s a brotherly ritual thing we do. But you can come.”

“I can?” she cried. “Where exactly are you guys going?”

“Mt. Hood,” Edric replied. “We go backcountry snowboarding twice a year, the week before classes start.”

Surprise marked her features. “In August?”

“You bet!” he said. “Mt. Hood holds snow all year round. But it’s about a ten-hour drive from here.”

“I’d still like to go,” Adelaide said, snapping the lid to her laptop shut. “I love skiing.”

“You skied in Australia?” Now it was Edric’s turn to sound surprised.

“Correct,” she said. “In Falls Creek, Mt. Hotham and Mt. Buller.”

“Look,” I said. “I don’t care if you love to ski or if you’ve skied back home. The question is, are you a good skier? Have you mastered every double back diamond, cliff band, and off-piste snow stash? Are you comfortable riding in all types of mountain terrain—moguls, ice, windblown crust, corn?”

“Yes to all of the above,” she said without missing a beat.

“It’s a brutal hike up the mountain,” I went on. “We go deep into the backcountry, away from any resorts, roads, lifts or trained professionals. No one patrols the area. We’re all on our own.”

“I can handle that,” she said easily.

Shit
. Now I was forced to come up with another excuse to dissuade her. “You don’t have the proper gear,” I pointed out. “You need lightweight Gore-Tex pants, a waterproof jacket, and base-layers to keep you warm on the hike up and dry on the way down. Not to mention, you don’t have any equipment. And I don’t have an extra snowboard or skis lying around.”

For once, Adelaide looked stumped. Hah! Finally, I
had
her.

Then Edric had to go and open his big fat mouth. “I’m sure Natasha has all the proper gear. Let me call her.”

Before I could protest, he was already on the phone talking to his girlfriend.

Fuck
. I scrubbed a hand through my scalp. This was the last thing I needed, having to worry about Adelaide’s safety.

Two minutes later, Edric was off the phone. “All systems go.” He flashed two thumbs up. “Natasha’s got you covered, girl. She’s got everything! Oh, and by the way,
brah
.” He cast me a quick darting glance. “Natasha says she’s coming, too.”

Double fuck.

Chapter Six

ADELAIDE

The ten-hour drive to Mt. Hood felt like a ten-day drive. While I usually had a tough time picking up on body cues, I had no trouble where Edric and Natasha were concerned.

It was clear as day they were mighty upset with each other.

“Edric this. Edric that.
Edric. Edric. Edric
,” he mimicked her high-pitched voice. “You don’t know when to stop, do you?”

Natasha flicked her hair over her shoulder. She was wearing a very sour, squashed lemon facial expression. “If you did what I asked you to do, then maybe I wouldn’t need to nag you.”

“I
did
do what you asked me to,” Edric shot back. “I invited you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.” Natasha crossed her arms and pouted profusely. “But I had to
ask
you to invite me. I want you to
want
me to come.”

“I
do
want you to come!” Edric said through gritted teeth. “That’s why you’re here, woman! But now that you’re reaming my ass, I’m not sure if I even want you here any more!”

“See!” she hissed. “I knew it! You never want to do anything with me.”

And back and forth they went. On and on…

Hoo boy! Natasha was like a human Pekingese, barking nonstop.

It was beyond exhausting.

Soon, my head began to throb and I felt a migraine coming on.

Meanwhile, Ender was clenching his jaw so hard I was surprised his molars hadn’t shattered.

It was clear he had an iron lock on his temper. And if Natasha didn’t stop acting like such a pill, Ender would probably lose his mind and go ballistic.

“C’mon, guys,” I spoke over their incessant bickering. “Hold hands, not grudges.”

For a split second, they stopped and stared at me. Then they went right back to raising their voices, arguing and acting like they hadn’t even heard me.

Bugger. I noticed the steely line of Ender’s jaw as he gripped the gearshift. His lean, muscled thighs rippled as he accelerated and shifted, speeding down on an open stretch of highway. “If you two don’t shut the fuck up right this second, I’m turning this car around and heading home.” His voice was low, controlled. Furious.

That finally shut them up. For good.

We arrived in Oregon shortly after nightfall and checked ourselves into a hotel in Portland. The minute my head hit the pillow, I was out like the proverbial light.

Bright and early the next morning, we grabbed a quick bite to eat, then set out on our drive. In less than an hour we made it to Mt. Hood and Ender parked the car a mile from the backcountry trailhead.

Natasha got out of the car, slammed the door shut with deliberate force, and placed both hands on her hips.

Surveying the topographical area, she demanded, “Where are the chairlifts?”

“Babe.” Edric exhaled sharply. “There are no chairlifts in the backcountry. That’s why it’s called the backcountry.”

“What?” Natasha looked as though she had swallowed her lips. “I’m not climbing up that mountain!”

“In order to ride down, you must first hike up.” Ender gave a nonchalant shrug. “You gotta earn your turns.”

“Edric.” Her voice teetered toward a whine. “I am
not
climbing up that mountain.”

“Don’t worry, Natasha.” I sent her a reassuring smile. “We won’t be climbing up the mountain. We’ll actually be traversing it by hiking along the side in a zigzag pattern. It’s a lot less strenuous than hiking up.”

“Climb. Traverse. Hike. I don’t give a damn what you call it,” she hissed. “I am not going up that mountain. I want to ski where there are chairlifts.”

“All right,” Edric said simply. “Take the car and drive over to the ski resort.”

“You mean you’re not coming with me?” Natasha met his gaze almost as if to challenge him, daring him to refuse her.

Edric sent his brother a long-suffering look
.

“Did you hear me, Edric,” Natasha said in arctic tones. “Edric! Did you hear me?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Irritation crept into his voice. “For the love of God, woman, I hear you.”

Ender tossed the keys in the air and Edric caught them one-handed. “I’ll call you when we’re ready.” Then he cut his gaze to me. “You going with them or you still coming with me?”

“I’m coming with you.” My answer was swift and sure.

“All right, guys.” Edric took one long last look at us. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“Hang on a sec,” Ender called after him. “Let me see if there’s cell reception in this area.” He checked the bars on his phone and said, “Barely.”

“Well, Natasha and I will be at the Ski Bowl resort,” Edric informed him. “I’ll wait for your call.”

Ender gave a single nod. “If you don’t hear from me by dark, I’ll send up an aerial parachute flare if we’re in deep shit. But if we’re just stuck up there for some reason and can’t make it back ’til tomorrow, we’ll trek to the cabin and stay there until things clear up.”

Edric made a V with his fingers and said, “Peace,
brah
!” Then he and Natasha trudged toward the car without a backward glance.

Clearing my throat twice, I said, “Have you ever had to send out a distress signal?”

“No.” Ender frowned. “But I’ve also never ventured out into the backcountry with a girl, so I’m taking extra precautions.”