Undone Deeds by Mark Del Franco Page B

mother. I had no idea she had that much interest. “That’s…. shrewd,” I said.
    “I am not a diplomat’s wife for nothing, dear. The trick to avoiding war is to find something more enticing. Maeve might be a bit of a hothead, but she’s still a ruler. She wants something more than defeating the Consortium. If we can understand that, we might be able to end this nonsense.”
    I loved the way my mother referred to war as nonsense. I might not have thought of her as a politician, but she always was sensible. Half her silliness was contrived, I knew, but now I saw her in a different light.
    Another knock came at the door, and my glance shot to the clock over the kitchen sink. I groaned inwardly as I answered the door. When I opened it, Meryl kissed me, then stopped short when she saw I had company. “Oh! Am I early?” she asked.
    Meryl was wearing a black bustier with a short jacket and jeans that might have been painted on. Oh, and she wore her knee-high boots with all the buckles. My mother put on her most diplomatic smile. “Not at all, dear. We were just discussing lunch.”
    Meryl turned a confused smile toward me. “I didn’t realize it was a group lunch. My bad.”
    “Meryl, I’d like to introduce you to Regula Grey. Mom, this is Meryl Dian,” I said.
    Meryl batted her eyes in stunned silence. My mother held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
    Meryl shook hands, staring at me over her shoulder. “You’re his mother.”
    “And your his…. ?” My mother said.
    Joe swooped closer to my mother’s ear. “That’s his hootchie.”
    Meryl held her hand in the air. “Connor, can you hand me the fly swatter?”
    My mother smiled. “It’s okay, dear. I was someone’s hootchie once.”
    “Mother!” I said.
    She stood up. “I must be going. I’d love to have you for dinner, Meryl. You can meet Mr. Grey.”
    “Um…. sure,” Meryl said.
    “This isn’t happening to me,” I muttered.
    My mother hugged me and kissed my cheek. “Get some food in you, Con. Call me later.”
    “I will,” I said.
    She paused on the threshold and looked at Meryl. “Oh, by the way, you look lovely, and I understand the desire not to feel constricted, but, trust me, in a pinch, a bra makes a great sling weapon.”
    “I did not hear that,” I said.
    Meryl tugged at the bottom of her jacket. It didn’t cover anything. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
    She patted my chest. “Just girl talk. See you soon.”
    I closed the door behind her and turned toward Meryl. “Do not say a word,” I said.
    She grinned like I’d never seen her do. “What? I liked her.”

14
     
    Meryl and Joe pretended to talk to each other while I jumped in the shower. They tolerated each other at best, suspected each other’s motives at worst. Flits had a history of innocent spying, which no one liked, and Meryl had a history of strict privacy, which she made no exceptions for. Joe had a habit of annoying whomever I dated. I thought of it as hazing the new person in my social life, but my dates tended to think he was a pain in the ass. He was, but he was part of the package when someone hung out with me.
    I came out of the bathroom, towel-drying my hair and wondering if I had clean socks. For such an empty room, I had a hard time keeping track of stuff. I opened the top drawer of the small dresser and found Joe sleeping in my underwear. Without waking him, I managed to find two socks that looked the same color. Joe looked comfortable, so I closed the drawer again.
    I overlooked Joe’s less-than-mature antics—didn’t even notice them most of the time. I grew up with him. Joe was whohe was. His bad side was irritating, but at least that was the extent of it. Lots of people had bad sides that were worse, Meryl among them. She was grumpy, quick to anger, and an intellectual snob. I wouldn’t have either of them any other way because when they flew, they soared.
    Across the room, Meryl stood in front of the blank canvas, intense