I think he might have some unaddressed hostility towards his mother for breaking up her marriage to Alan. Which is ridiculous, since Liz caught Alan in bed with his secretary, so the divorce is more his fault than hers. Sometimes it’s best not to try to understand the workings of other peoples’ families. I guess you have to be a part of them to fully comprehend them.
Sasha looks hung-over as she fills Liz in on what’s going with her. Mostly work biz. I sit on the other side of the double bed, and she finishes her conversation with her mum.
“Hey, kid. You want me to plait your hair for you?” she asks past a yawn.
I shrug. “Sure, if you want.”
Sasha loves doing people’s hair, which is odd since she never puts any effort into her own. Though it’s far too short to do much with anyway. She grabs an elastic band from her dresser and then divides my hair into sections before weaving it into a plait.
“Your colour is amazing, Lana. It’s so bright.”
I laugh. “Yeah, unfortunately it’s like a beacon for arseholes. I can’t count the number of times I’ve gotten the old ‘does the carpet match the drapes?’ routine.”
She sighs. “Well, that’s men for you.”
“Indeed. Have I ever told you how much your brother irritates me?”
Her hands still. “What’s he done now?”
“Oh, nothing bad. He’s actually being friendly. Sort of. It’s freaking me out.”
“I told him not to hassle you, so perhaps he’s taken my warnings to heart for once.”
“Yeah, perhaps.”
“Though you know what Rob’s like. He’ll always go overboard just to show that he’s not giving in completely. That’s probably why he’s acting extra nice. He’s a perverse little git like that.”
Is that what he’s doing? Being extra friendly to mock the agreement he made with Sasha to be nice?
Sasha finishes up my hair and gives a little tug on the plait once it’s finished. “There, now you’re all beautified.”
“Thanks, Sash. Oh do you mind if I fire up the barbecue out the back? I went food shopping earlier, so I’m going to make us homemade burgers for our Sunday lunch.”
“Sounds good to me. Work away.”
She climbs out of bed and walks over to her closet, rummaging out some shorts and a T-shirt and pulling them on. “Come on, I’ll show you how to use it. Make sure there’s no danger of you setting yourself on fire,” she says with a grin.
I sigh and smile back, following her down to the garden. She instructs me on how to turn it on and makes me practice a few times to ensure I’ve got it right.
A minute later Rob sticks his head out of his bedroom window, calling, “What are you two tossers playing at down there? I’m trying to get an afternoon nap, and all I can hear is your constant nattering.”
“Lana’s going to use the barbecue to make burgers. It’d be a waste not to take advantage of this weather,” says Sasha. “And it’s your own fault you’re tired, since you stayed up half the night making love to that bottle of scotch and slagging off Kara and Gary to poor Alistair, who had the unenviable job of listening to your shit.”
He gives his sister the evil eye and then glances at me. “Burgers are an excellent idea, Lana. I’ll take two.”
“I don’t remember offering you any,” I say, messing around with the knobs. I turn the gas on a little too high, and the flames flare up.
“Jesus,” Sasha exclaims, swiping my hands away from the barbecue. “Maybe you should stick to preparation and I’ll do the cooking, eh?”
I shrug. “Okay, then.”
Robert chuckles down from his window. “I told you you’d gotten fiery, Lana.”
Sasha shakes her head and gestures up at Rob with her hands “My brother, ladies and gents, king of the shit jokes.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t goad me, sis,” Robert replies, sucking up what sounds like a big wad of saliva. “I’m in the perfect position to lay a massive spit on your head.”
Sasha grabs a spatula from the side of the barbecue. “Do it, and I’ll come up there and stick this down your throat.”
“Goodness, the violence!” says Robert, feigning shock. “And me only recovering from a terrifying attack.”
“An attack you deserved. If I came home to find a little shit like you shagging my wife, I’d have given you worse than two black eyes.”
“Don’t you mean husband, Sash?” Robert counters with a crafty grin.
“Shut up, you know what I mean,” she replies sulkily.
I decide to leave the two of them to their battle of wits and go inside to start on the salad. The kitchen in this house is state-of-the-art, so I’m eager to get to work in it. I’m going to make potato salad with chives and onions, coleslaw, and some mixed leaves with olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and chopped walnuts.
A couple of minutes into my preparations, Sasha comes in and gets the meat out of the fridge for the burgers. We stand side by side at the counter, working harmoniously until Robert comes downstairs and begins questioning everything we do. He asks annoying things like, “What are those?” when I take out the chives, and “Why are you chopping up those nuts?” when I start on the walnuts.
He knows all the answers, of course — he’s just trying to get on our nerves.
“Rob, quit acting like an irritating twelve-year-old or we won’t give you anything to eat,” says Sasha nonchalantly as she carries a tray of burgers outside to the grill.
“I’m bored,” he whines, being purposefully aggravating. “Give me something to do.”
“You can go and set the table in the gazebo if you like,” she suggests before disappearing out the back door.
Robert grins, all teeth, and goes to collect some knives and forks. The drawer for them is right beneath where I’m standing, so I quickly scoot out of the way. His grin widens. “I’m not the big bad wolf, little red. You don’t have to back away from me like I’m going to bite you, you know.”