Page 55

Gabby

I spotted Talia just outside the recreation pavilion, standing near a lemon tree, phone tucked between her shoulder and ear. She gave me a “hold on” gesture before hanging up with a, “’K love you, bye.”

“How’s Spencer?” I asked, tightening Frosty’s leash around my hand.

“Fine, I guess,” Talia said and tiptoed over to me while navigating the dozens of lemons in various stages of rot on the ground. “He’s sick of hearing about Dad’s campaign.”

“Relatable. Any clue why we’ve been summoned here?” I turned toward the building, my eyes sweeping the mess of cracked stucco, rotting wood, and spiderwebs. The place was in a serious state of disrepair.

“It’s Ozzie, so who knows.”

As we approached the door, I peered up to where bright pink bougainvillea appeared to be eating the roof. “What if it collapses?” I pondered aloud. Roofs were on my mind, and I felt iffy about the structural integrity of this one.

“It hasn’t beenthatlong,” Talia said and pushed open the door.

We crept inside to find three dust-caked televisions hanging from the rafters, and drop cloths covering the arcade games, air hockey, and pool tables. Stacked chairs lined the bowling alleysand, between them, a karaoke machine waited for a singer who would never return.

“Yikes,” I said. “It’s very ‘documentary about a family murder’ in here.”

“Guess we’re not bowling,” Talia said.

“Welcome, ladies!” Ozzie popped up from behind the bar and plunked a large bottle of something amber-colored onto the counter. “It’s Friday evening, and we need to celebrate. Finally, some good news for Dad.” He pivoted and began rooting around in the cabinet behind him.

“Pretty sad that an article declaring us ‘not dead yet’ is good news,” Talia said. She picked up the bottle and made a face. “Scotch?In a recreation pavilion? Only Dad.”

“As if Dad’s ever stepped foot in here.” Ozzie flipped back around and wiped the insides of three shot glasses with his shirt. “Everybody down for a shot?”

“Sure, why not,” I said, freeing Frosty from his leash. He darted off to sniff, nails clacking on the floors. “Though I’m not much of a drinker—”

“She likes the herb,” Ozzie said, using one hand to perform the universal sign for smoking a blunt, while he poured out shots with the other.

“Not as much as some people,” I said and reached for one of the glasses.

“To Team Gunn!” Ozzie said, raising his overhead.

“Gunning for you!” I said. We clinked and threw back our shots. I grimaced, the alcohol burning on the way down. “That is disgusting.”

“Totally,” Talia agreed and asked for another.

“Look at us,” Ozzie said. “Three charming but dysfunctional children, getting it done. Talia using her competence to make Dad stand for something.”

“It was easy. Almost too easy.” She frowned. “He told me to do... whatever. I don’t trust it.”

“Don’t overthink,” Ozzie said. “Meanwhile, Gabby secured not one but two labor endorsements with her legendary niceness.”

“Yep.” I bobbed my head. My tally so far: the Sailors’ Union of the Pacific and the local branch of the International Alliance of Theatrical Stage Employees. I’d like to think my theater background brought the second one over the finish line.

“Even the resident dipshit can contribute,” Ozzie said, hopping up onto the bar.

“Please,” Talia scoffed. “If you become any more adored, they’re going to askyouto run instead.” She took another shot and made her way to the opposite side of the room.

“Aw,” Ozzie said, tilting his head. “That’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“No one’s accused me of being the nice one.” Talia opened the door to the gym and peeked inside. “Everything’s unplugged,” she said. “It doesn’t look like anyone’s been in here for years. Isn’t Dad a gym every day at five a.m. guy?”

“I’ve seen him jogging the property,” I said. “And Ustenya mentioned having an elliptical in their bedroom?”

“He’s also pretty into pickleball,” Ozzie offered.