“It could be anything,” he said, folding one arm over his chest while he cupped his chin in a thoughtful manner with his other hand.
“Maybe we should just throw them away,” Reese suggested, but they both knew that neither one of them would be able to do that.
There were just some things that you didn’t do, and throwing away Black Jack’s pizza was one of them.
“Just try it,” he said, hoping that his brother would man up and get it over with so that they could end this bullshit.
Reese shook his head, assuming a similar pose as he continued to study the box. “You first.”
“No fucking way,” he said, having absolutely no desire to willingly accept Marybeth’s revenge.
“I double dare you to do it,” Reese said, which was really fucking sad.
“That only works coming from Marybeth,” he reminded his brother.
“Why?” his brother asked, frowning as he tore his gaze away from the boxes to glare at him.
“Because you refused to play the game when it started.”
Reese snorted. “I wasn’t going to eat that fucking shit. That was disgusting.”
Darrin chuckled as he returned his attention to the box. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“They admitted you to the ICU for a month!” Reese said, looking just as horrified as he had that fateful Sunday afternoon when Darrin had followed through with Marybeth’s first double dare and ate the entire bowl of penicillin covered worms.
“It was just a bad reaction to the worms,” he said, waving it off.
“Then this should be a walk in the park for you,” Reese said, gesturing towards the boxes.
“Eat a slice or get the hell out,” he told his brother, hoping to cut the shit and get this over with.
“No,” Reese simply said, using the butter knife to pop the cover open on the top box, revealing-
“Oh, fuck no,” he said, swallowing hard when he realized what they had in front of them.
“A Monster,” Reese said, licking his lips hungrily as they stared down at the pizza in front of them.
“Four slices are missing,” he pointed out, moving closer to examine the pizza for any obvious signs of tampering.
“She did that to fuck with our heads,” Reese said, coming closer to examine the pizza as well. They examined the pizza from every angle, looking for anything that would give away Marybeth’s sick and twisted plans for him.
“I bet there’s nothing wrong with the pizza,” he said, chuckling.
“You’re probably right,” Reese agreed, matching his chuckle, but didn’t make a single move to go for that pizza, he noted.
“Then try a slice,” he said, gesturing to the pizza.
Reese narrowed his eyes on him. “You.”
“No, you,” he snapped, wondering why his brother was being so damn difficult about this.
“Just eat a slice!”
“You eat a slice!”
“You!”
“You!”
For another minute, they glared at each other. Waiting for the other to back down and give in, but they both knew that would never happen without a little physical prompting. With a nod of understanding, they pushed away from the kitchen island, stepped to the side and with a bored sigh, they did what they had to do.
*-*-*-*
Perhaps she should have said no when Uncle Jared called earlier to see if she could start the old Mason mansion project tonight. A moment later when she opened her truck door and moved to climb out only to wince as every muscle in her body screamed in protest she decided that there was no maybe about it. At the very least she should have waited until tomorrow when she had her crew to help carry everything inside and prepare the house.
Instead, she’d carried over twenty five-gallon buckets of primer to several different locations, most of them up to the third floor of the large mansion. Then, because she really was an idiot, she’d carried in the heavy drop cloths, ladders and all the equipment that they were going to need to paint the interior of the freshly renovated mansion and placed them where they would be needed tomorrow morning.
Six hours later she was sore, exhausted and starving, but at least she wasn’t on the verge of crying about this hopeless situation any longer. Well, tonight she wasn’t. Every time she felt like she was in danger of crying, she’d pushed herself harder and harder until all she could think about was how heavy those damn buckets and ladders were. It’s hard to focus on anything else when your arms felt like they were going to fall off.
Somehow she managed to climb out of her truck and shut her door without screaming in pain. It took her twice as long as it usually did, but she managed to drag her ass to the front door and let herself inside. When she didn’t see Darrin, she counted herself lucky. Groaning softly as she tried to work out the stiffness in her shoulders, she walked into her apartment, tossed her keys on the small table by the door and made herself walk up the stairs, whimpering pathetically with each and every step.
By the time she’d made it to the second floor, she was more than ready to call it a night and curl up into a ball on the landing and stay there until her alarm clock went off and forced her to get up so that she could crawl in her room and beat the shit out of it. But she knew that if she didn’t go pop a few Advil and a take an excruciatingly hot shower now that she’d regret it in the morning.
She walked into her room, slapped her hand against the wall, leaned over and started the long, tedious process of untying her work boots. Once she had the left boot off, she dropped it with a grunt and worked on removing the other one. Once that was done, she let out another pathetic groan and headed towards the bathroom, stripping her clothes off along the way.
She turned on her shower, turning it all the way up, grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste and forced the muscles in her arm to work. Five minutes later, she was closing her eyes and savoring the hot water as it helped soothe her aches and pains. It felt so good, but all too soon the water started to cool off.
With a sigh of disappointment, she shut the water off and stepped out of the shower. She dried off with a towel and then wrapped it around herself so that she could comb out her long hair. Biting back a yawn, she grabbed a bottle of lotion and walked into her bedroom, dropping the towel along the way, letting it hit the floor with a mental promise to pick it up in the morning.
She pumped some lotion into her hand and placed the bottle on her nightstand. Rubbing the lotion between her hands, she began rubbing it all over her body, moaning softly as she worked the last of the tension out of her muscles.