Blacklake-Book4-1 Three Cousins

Chapter 28
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I was waitin’ for someone with a clipboard to come in and sign me out of this noisy place. Things move kinda slow in the hospital, if loudly. When might my sense of smell return? Should I ask? Mama told me to text her when I headed for the lobby. Kind of her to pick me up. Prolly worried that if I tried to walk home, got dizzy and fell down, the entire Range would be abuzz about a Birs fallin’ down drunk.

My phone pinged, my general note, not Ezra or Kriz’, so I almost ignored it for now. But what else did I have to do? I hate waitin’, even though Ezra had dropped off my laptop at four-thirty this morning, so I had stuff I could do.

The text wasn’t from anyone I would have expected. Why would Little Wus, my college roommate be—he asked if he could call me. Why would he wanna call me? In my head I said, no. But I replied with a Y. This was prolly gonna be good.

“Hey, Butthead.” That’s how he usually greets me. So it didn’t mean nothing, imply a tone.

“Understand you’re in the hospital,” he continued.

“Ya read that on the wire service?” I asked. Anything d Birs related might from day to day end up on the wire. Imagine if I tried to walk home and fell down.

“Someone who will remain nameless mentioned it,” he said.

Nameless? Fool was talkin’ more foolish than usual.

“Hypothetically, a person may have thought I might have some insight into being a human among ogres. Hypothetically.”

Uh. Didn’t know what to say to that.

“I must have been lucky,” he continued. “You never came close to ripping my head off. Except for that time at the cookout I grabbed for the t-bone you had your eye on.”

Thomas the fool called Little Wus? I didn’t come close to rippin’ his head off. Either of em. The whiners. Overly sensitive to a deep growl, is all.

“Hypothetically, wondered what would happen when you learned he had a dinner date with Ezra.”

I already had eight cousins call me about Ezra’s dinner in West Hamlet. I think I took the news pretty well. Have to admit I was glad she took him thirty miles away. Really struggled not to mention it when she dropped by hours before the ogre-butt-crack of dawn.

“Hypothetically, what should I have answered to such a question? Considering you, me, and this hypothetical person have played hundreds, thousands of hours of basketball together.”

“Ya don’t play basketball,” I said. “Ya just stumble around and get in the way. Hypothetically, the other human is prolly a serious ball hog, and isn’t aware he has any teammates on the court, just like ya.”

David, AKA Little Wus, a name he truly deserves, cleared his throat. “Insults aside, anything you think I might be able to do to settle things down a bit? Hypothetically?”

“Will ya cut the hypothetical stuff? Not like we aren’t adults here. Well, at least I’m adult. Not sure if ya’re out of diapers yet.”

David snorted. Humans have such a non-pretentious snort. “Ezra told me you were the one acting like a two-year-old.”

“Ya talked to Ezra?” I growled.

“I talk to Ezra all the time. Ya know we’ve been friends since that first autumn break you took me to the Hamlet. I love Ezra. She’s so the complete opposite of you. Has some personality. Sweet. Kind. Thoughtful. Communicative. Open. Beautiful inside and out.” He paused. “I can see how Thomas has gotten a crush on her.”

A crush?

“You care to hear some advice?” he asked.

From Little Wus? “Not from ya.”

“Chill a little,” he said.

Didn’t I just say no, to his advice? “I didn’t say I wanted yar advice.”

“Pretty sure the ignorant pause indicated otherwise.”

Wait til I get him on the court again.

“Fine. I won’t expect you to set me any picks in the future. I’ll just practice my thirteen-foot jumper.”

“Ya don’t even have a five-foot jumper,” I said. “Not one that doesn’t bounce off the iron or miss the board completely.” He should go back to the whiner’s court with the ten-foot rim.

“So, I’ve got a boring intern gig here at home that pays nothing. They have me running backups and stuff a two-year-old could do. If you need me to come up and settle things down for you—Ezra might have suggested it—I could tell my boss thanks and so long.”

“Aren’t ya like six hours from havin’ a double E degree? Ya’re doing server admin? Why aren’t ya designin’ circuits and network stuff?” I trash talk the fool, but that’s such a waste of talent. Not that I’d ever admit I respect his—abilities.

“Only so many summer jobs for us guys without a fortune in the bank,” he said, pushin’ my bright red button. And we were doin’ so well. The jerk can be such a jerk. The jerk.

Love to pound the fool into the hardcourt. We could get some gym time in, in the evenings, if he came up. Once the doc says I can move around again—and that headache isn’t makin’ me wanta hurl. Love to see David’s head bouncin’ off the hardwood. He jumps back up with such enthusiasm. No matter how much he’s bleedin’. And we consider humans so fragile.

“You’re being kind of quiet,” he said softly. “Imagining how excited Ezra will be to see me, huh. I’ll probably take away all the interest she’s showing on our hypothetical guy.”

“She is kind of easy to love, huh?” I said. No clue why every other ogre bull in the Range isn’t poundin’ down her door. So she doesn’t have classic ogre looks. She— I hate where my mind goes, moments like this. She deserves no sympathy, ’cause she doesn’t need any. She’s the sweetest hen I’ve ever met.

“Did I mention I love her too,” David said.

“I don’t need two human ignoramuses makin’ a scene around my favorite cousin,” I growled.

“Don’t growl at me, fool. Have I ever embarrassed you?”

“Every time ya drive for the basket,” I said.

“Other than that,” he said.

~ Ezra ~

I mopped a bucket of sweat from my face as I exited the smokehouse. Hopefully the six beef quarters I had rotatin’ the past three days, would get us through the evening rush. Today’s pork should easily suffice, as would the lamb and turkey. With the influx of humans durin’ high season, fewer ogres are visitin’ the Inn, so we’d need less meat per table. Why humans fill up with garden stuff, potatoes, confuses the wazoo out of me. Ick.

I sat to let the chill morning breeze save my life, removed the flip flops I wear in the smokehouse, and retrieved my phone from the table. Had a few texts. From David, Thomas, and Ike. Really early for all three of em. What a collection of fools. Lovely fools. I smiled. Hope no one was watchin’. Don’t need no bad reputation.

Ike’s read, “Ya really keep in touch with Little Wus? I thought ya have standards. Did ya really suggest he come up?” Funny.

Thomas’ read sweet. “Really enjoyed our evening together. Can’t say I’ve ever had such a nice time.”

He didn’t say, with a hen, or a female. That sense of despair that drew my flow of tears last night threatened to tighten my chest again.

David’s text was the actual shocker. “Ike snagged me a seat on the council jet, at 11. Said he could make a place for me at OW for the summer. You think your mama would put me up?”

Why wouldn’t he stay with Ike? Then the exuberance of seein’ him this summer after all hit. Then the thing with him stayin’ with me simmered it. Him and me, under the same roof, had to be some diabolical human thread of thought. No ogre would think up such an ignernt thing, with alternatives.

Wasn’t something to answer in a text. I dialed him—as weird as that seemed to me. Who calls anyone anymore?

“You had to think about it for a long time,” he said instead of hello.

I explained that I’d been in the smokehouse the last forty-five minutes. “Ya think it’s appropriate to stay in my home, do ya?”

I could hear the smile in his voice when he said, “I enjoy your company a lot more than any other ogre.”

“Ya could stay with Kriz,” I said. “He has a spare room.”

He laughed. Hard. “He’d kill me within ten minutes.”

“Not true,” I growled. Well. Maybe thirty minutes, if David didn’t stay on his best behavior—meanin’, remain invisible. “What’s rattlin’ around in that empty head of yars? Ike tell ya something, like, what’s going on with Thomas?”

“Thomas who?” he replied.

The fool has spent way too much time around Ike. My head slid into the practical. “Ya know my mama doesn’t know how to cook for a human.”

“You won’t cook for your favorite human?” he asked.

“I cook ten hours a day. I don’t cook when I get off work. Especially for a fool human who may be gettin’ in over his head in ogre business.”

“Your people know me. I’ve spent as much time in the Hamlet as Ike has the last four years.”

“Don’t insult us, ya jerk. We aren’t people.” I may have let go a serious ogre growl.

He laughed. That human is really quick to laugh. “You’re so easy,” he said.

The jerk.

~