Killing Cousins Read Online Free PDF Page B

probably,” I said to her.
    â€œCool!” she said and made a fist.
    â€œI want a Backstreet Boys lunchbox,” Mary said.
    â€œYou will get no such thing,” I said. “You’re six years old and you will get something befitting a six-year-old. Like Tigger or Pokémon.”
    Mary’s expression dropped.
    â€œWhat’s a Backstreet Boy?” Rudy asked.
    â€œOnly the coolest band in the world,” Rachel said.
    â€œNo, they are not,” I said. “None of them play instruments, so therefore they cannot be a band. Am I right, Rudy? You have to play instruments to be a band.”
    â€œLast time I checked,” Rudy agreed, “you must have instruments to be a band.”
    â€œDoes Rachel get a Backstreet Boys lunchbox?” Mary asked with her lower lip looking impossibly fat and protruded.
    â€œMary, pick your face up before it gets in your pizza. No, Rachel’s not getting one either.”
    â€œMom!” Rachel said. Now her face was all droopy, too.
    â€œThey don’t even make lunchboxes with them on it, anyway,” I said. In truth, I didn’t know if they did or didn’t, but it seemed like the right thing to say. “So don’t worry about it.”
    â€œIf they did make them, would you let us have one?” Rachel asked.
    â€œNope.”
    The mayor sat down in the booth next to us, the vinyl seat making a scrunch sound as he did so. Rudy gave me that look. You know, the one that says, “Keep your mouth shut or I’m going to put my foot in it.” He’s so cute.
    â€œRudy,” the mayor said and nodded.
    â€œBill. How ya doin’?” Rudy asked.
    â€œGood, good.” The mayor opened his newspaper and began reading.
    â€œYour wife kick you out of the house?” Rudy asked him.
    â€œNo. She’s visiting her sister,” he said. “They’re planning a baby shower for their niece.”
    â€œOh,” Rudy said.
    â€œSo, I’m fending for myself tonight,” Bill said. He hadn’t looked up from his newspaper. The restaurant lights made his bald head look shinier than it really was. Otherwise, I’d say that he had to buff it to get it that shiny. He was short and cantankerous and loved to bowl. From his backyard I could see into his family room, which was decorated in nothing but bowling trophies and bowling mementos. He even had his bowling shoes bronzed. Not that I ever really studied what was in his family room.
    â€œI was supposed to eat one of those chicken potpie things,” he said. “But I only eat those when my wife’s watching. To me, pie should be made out of pudding or fruit.”
    â€œWon’t she get wise to the fact that the chicken potpie is still in the oven?” Rudy asked. “I mean, I can’t even throw stuff away, because Torie goes through the trash.”
    I nudged Rudy’s leg under the table. He just smiled at me.
    The mayor smiled and looked over at Rudy for the first time. “You think your chickens are getting that fat on the feed you guys give ’em? Hell, no. I give them whatever food my wife cooks that I don’t like.”
    Rudy and I stared at each other across the table. We were both too flabbergasted to say anything: first, that he would actually do such a childish thing; and second, that he would admit it to us. And didn’t that mean that our chickens were cannibals now? But that was Bill for you. He thought he was above any sort of code of conduct. In any arena.
    â€œWell, gee,” Rudy finally said. “Bill. You might ask next time. Our chickens are going to get hardening of the arteries.”
    â€œAhh, pooh,” he said and waved a hand in our direction.
    We sat in silence a moment and then the mayor looked over and winked at Mary. She became all goofy and snarfed her pizza and waved back.
    â€œHow are you today, little lady?” he asked.
    â€œFine,” Mary said. “Mom