67 A grinch

**Date = 1 July**
**Place = San Francisco (Damion’s house)**

**POV - Aria**

The sky is turning the color of old iron, thick with layered grays that bled into one another, slow and heavy, darkening the sky to an unnatural charcoal. A low groan of distant thunder rumbles — not loud, but long — like something ancient waking up.
The wind shifts, sharp and metallic, and the gulls have vanished. On the horizon, where sea meets sky, the black clouds curl inward like fists. Something is coming. Not rain. Something worse.
We watch them drive away. Charlotte waves her little arm off through the back window of the truck. Leyla is gonna miss having her around.
I look down at the new tiny girl holding my hand. She’s even smaller than my sister. Thin, but strong — in cargo shorts and an oversized skate hoodie that says ‘*Eat My Dust’* in neon colors.
“Eh, so River, I hear you’re looking for your brother?” I ask while we walk back inside.
“No, he’s fine, I’m looking —” she answers quickly, stops just as quickly mid-sentence, and frowns as if contemplating what she should say next. “Eh … I’m looking for Lee.” The corners of her mouth droop, forming a downward crescent. She is definitely as strange as Lee.
“Mm, those ducks are cute, don’t you think?” She slides her eyes down as if she did something wrong.
The first drops of rain fall just as we reach the door. Slow, fat drops.
“Lee loves rain,” she mumbles. “Sh … eh … Lee always dances with me until we’re wet and cold.” Her voice is glum, her face sorrowful. This can’t be easy for her. Like Lee, she acts brave, but she’s still just a little girl.
“I’m sure Jackson will find … he will find Lee when he comes,” she says with another melt-your-heart smile while a little finger points in the air, “Right?”
I nod not to dampen her spirit. And I’m sure, Jackson is Lee’s best chance right now. I know he received a choice … but the boys are keeping it between them. Not even Mel knows. She told me she threatened Damion with everything she had … even sex … but he’s not talking. She also confessed that if the boys decided to keep a secret, not even the devil would drag it out of them.
“You know,” she says more cheerfully, jumping up to sit on the kitchen counter. “I’ve googled you, the Blackburn twins. Found a lot about you,” she points to Enrique, who is making coffee. “But not so much about your brother. Only speculations. Candid photos. Nothing posed. No interviews. Why?”
“Jackson is allergic to attention,” Axel teases, leaning against the cupboard, in linen pants and a muscle T. The man has abs that would make Madonna weak in the knees. I go sit in one of the high chairs. I should probably take the costumes and go, but curiosity has me stuck. And somewhere inside I’m hoping for some time alone with the robot … just to tell him what an ass he is.
“Adds up,” River chirps. “Lee says Jackson is … quiet.”
“Gmf,” Enrique grunts. “Quiet, my ass. He’s intense. Doesn’t say much.” The definition of quiet.
“But when he does, it usually scares people or makes them fall in love with him,” Axel finishes.
She snorts. “Sounds dramatic.”
“He is. In a broody, serial killer kind of way,” Enrique explains.
“And he looks exactly like you … or he does in photos.”

“I guess … his hair is longer. Messier. Like someone tried to brush it once and then gave up. And his eyes are both hellish blue.”
“Okay, definitely the hot twin then.” River arches an eyebrow.
“Hey,” Enrique protests. “We’re fucking identical. Except for the tats and his crazy eyes.”
“Precisely,” she snobs. I disagree. Enrique is the hot one. But I keep that titbit to myself.
BANG!
The door slams so hard the salt-and-pepper shakers do a jittery dance on the kitchen table.
River’s head jerks up.
Enrique freezes mid-espresso pour.
Axel doesn’t even flinch. “There he is. The dark cloud himself. I was wondering when he would roll in.”
Jackson stands in the doorway like some devil out of a Gothic novel — a soaked, scowling silhouette with wet, sticky hair and fierce eyes that look like they can burn through metal.
Six-foot-something, damp with fog, streaked in dirt, wearing the same black hoodie he had on the last time I saw him, unzipped over a dirty shirt stained with engine grease and something dark I don’t want to name.
His jaw is clenched, sharp with stubble, and his face drawn into a dark question mark. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, and maybe hasn’t cared in weeks. His boots leave muddy prints on the tiles, and his whole body hums with that barely-kept kind of energy that will kill you colorfully if released*.*
His presence fills the space like a thundercloud.
Enrique raises his espresso cup. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Satan’s moodier cousin.”
Jackson doesn’t answer. He stalks further inside, dripping rain, scanning the room like he expects something — or someone — to lunge out from behind the fridge.
“I hope this is fucking important,” he sneers, voice low and rough.
“You must be Jackson,” River beams from the counter, swinging her legs like a delinquent Tinkerbell. “Lee’s Jackson?” The twin doesn’t move.
“I’m River, Lee’s sister,” she says, all business. Jackson just stares.
“River-Rose Moore, from Portland,” she clarifies, like that makes a difference.
His eyes blister with the intensity of a thousand dark blue suns.

And it’s that glower that examines the girl on the kitchen counter with a critical squint. But she’s not rattled, not even in the slightest, by his seemingly chained-up intensity.
Jackson runs his fingers irritably through his hair and turns his body full force towards his twin. “What the fuck is this?” His voice dips as he looks between the two boys for an explanation, snubbing the youngster. Enrique shrugs.
“Told you I’m Lee’s sister,” the girl sneers, “Jeez … such a BMA?” Jackson cocks his head and glares at the little girl who’s idly swinging her legs from side to side, oblivious to the fact that she’s prodding the devil — who is agitated, anxious, worn out, hungry, filthy, and about to blow.
“What?” His voice drones in a weary monotone. Wonder above wonder, he keeps his calm.
Her head moves back in union with her overly dramatic eye roll. “Oh, my word! Old people.”
“This …” She circles her hand with a huge gesture in front of Jackson’s face, “… right here … real *Batman Attitude*.” I might be simple-minded, but I still don’t get it.
Jackson flinches.
“Oh, my gosh.” River throws her hands in the air. “It means you’re cocky, grumpy, and moody.” Oh, that’s befitting. She doesn’t give him time to respond.
“Lee stopped answering the phone, so I took the bus, and I was supposed to find you. Except I found *him*.” She points at Enrique, who gives a dramatic little wave.
There is a long beat of silence. Jackson looks like he’s just walked into a fever dream.
“You took a bus?” he says finally. The fact I’m also stuck on.
“Yeah, don’t recommend it,” she sneers.
“Alone?” I’m shocked. She’s younger than Leyla. Where are her parents? It’s very negligent of them to let her do something so dangerous without supervision.

“Do I look like I’m with a chaperone?”
Axel coughs into his hand to hide his laugh. Enrique chokes so hard on his espresso that he has to spit in the sink.
Jackson runs a hand through his soaked hair. “Jesus Christ.”
“Yeah, I guess He was probably on the bus, since He’s everywhere,” she says sincerely. “Or that’s what Mom says.” She blinks. “That means at least he’s with Lee, too.” At least.
She exudes guilt. “You would not believe how difficult it was to get a ticket without a grown-up. The lady asked if I was a runaway. Wanted to call the cops. Told her I was on a mission and made up a fake dad. Took a whole bloody day to get here. Then I grabbed a taxi to the club. The driver kept looking at me as if he wanted to steal my skateboard.”
“Do you always talk this much?” Jackson asks gruffly.
“Only when people don’t give me answers. Or snacks.” Her comebacks are as fast as Lee’s. Definitely see the relation.
“And by the way, I’m starving,” she announces again. “If I don’t eat soon, I’m going to faint and sue you. Child endangerment or whatever.”
Jackson grunts and looks at his twin. “Is there food?”
“The kid cleaned out the fridge.”
Jackson exhales. The kind of breath that says I-don’t-have-time-for-this-shit.
“I was hungry. And Axel ate the most,” River pouts like a little goblin.
Axel sticks out his tongue at her and asks, “You want coffee?”, looking at his friend.
“I want sleep. Food. And to rescue Lee,” Jackson moans.
“Hard same,” River says. Jackson gives her a look and starts scavenging the cupboards. He eventually finds a box of linguine in the pantry and throws it on the counter like it has personally offended him.
“Let’s make pasta,” he says. He sounds as tired as he looks. I get up and grab a pot.
“I’ll supervise,” River beams, crossing her arms. “You look like the kind of guy who forgets salt and burns water.” I doubt it — Mel told me her brothers are all great cooks.
“Super,” Jackson grunts.
I set the pot of water on the stovetop. As the water boils, the house starts to feel less like a disaster and more like a weird, broken family reunion.
“There are still some ham and cheese left,” Axel says, taking stuff from the fridge. “And mushrooms that expire tomorrow.” He distributes it between us. I get the ham.
Enrique comes to stand next to me. Directly next to me. So close I can feel his heat and smell his skin. That close.
He starts grating cheese. I’m careful not to move a single inch more than I absolutely have to. If we touch right now, I might ignite.
River sits on the counter, arms folded like a tiny Gordon Ramsay. She’s let her guard down for a second and looks like a vulnerable little angel.
Jackson looks down at the cooking pasta. For the first time, his shoulders relax a little.
“I am so hungry I can eat a fucking horse,” he mumbles. These guys are not yet used to little ears around. They still forget not to swear. But Mel is valiantly working on that.
“What about a cat?” River asks with a serious frown.
“Oh, this is gonna be good,” Enrique whispers into my ear, laughter in his voice. I guess he knows where it’s leading.
“Huh,” Jackson frowns.
“Did you eat our cat?” River continues, innocent as a viper. “Mr. Sprinkles has been missing since X-mas. That’s when Lee started talking about you. So, you know. I connected the dots.” The two boys watch Jackson with clearly delighted faces. It’s as if they’re knowingly waiting for a bucket of water to drop on his head so they can laugh their asses off.
“Why would I eat your damn cat?” Jackson spits. The other two chuckle, expecting what’s to come.
“Lee told her friend, you know exactly how to devour a pussy.” And the water drops.
Silence.
Dead. Horrified. Silence.
Then the two boys burst. Split their sides. Jackson looks floored. Zonked. Totally dumbstruck.
“Oh hell*,*” Enrique hoots, bending over, gasping. “I’m putting this on a T-shirt.” Axel falls into another wheeze of laughter.
I gasp and cover my face.
Jackson swears under his breath, rubbing his temples as if he can press the memory out of existence. “Shit.”
I vouch it’s the first time ever I’m seeing him flustered. It’s kinda funny. And of course, his beloved brother and friend get a kick out of his agitation. They’re cracking themselves.
“Do you need a pill or something?” River asks with serious, childlike innocence. “You look like your soul’s trying to leave your body.”
She doesn’t give him time to answer … or recover. “Maybe you should pop a Xansex before you pop a vein.” She stares up at him, squinting through the long bangs not contained in her ponytail.
Enrique’s eyebrows shoot up, forming a high arch, before he creases up again. Axel’s hand flies to his mouth, muffling an involuntary gasp. I’m sure, like me, he just swallowed his laugh.
“Xanax.” Jackson corrects her softly, already past his slight humiliation. The man recovers quickly. “But Xansex sounds like a pill I’ve got to try out.”
She rolls her eyes at him and pulls a weird face. I’m sure a little smile is tugging hopelessly, trying to pull up the corners of his mouth. Even in his state, she managed to amuse him.
“Anyway,” she continues sternly, “if you don’t light up, your farthole will clamp shut and your poop will push back into your tummy.” She looks around the room pensively as if checking whether we believe her or not. She thinks NOT, cause she adds, “Trues. It happened to my dad once.” She slowly shakes her head from side to side. “And it’s not a pretty sight.”
“What the fuck?” Jackson looks at his twin. I’m definitely not going to tell him not to swear in front of the kid. He’s not in the mood to listen. And he might still be a little angry at me for getting Lee captured.
“She takes a lot of energy,” Enrique adds helpfully. “Like, solar-flare levels.”
“And she might be rabid,” Axel continues. “She bites.”
“Hey,” River snubs, “I’m sitting right here.” I stir the ham-and-cheese sauce into the pasta.
“You’re a pain in the ass,” Jackson snubs. “Go get some plates.” River snorts, but does as she’s told. I scoop some pasta into the bowls, and we sit on the round high-chairs at the breakfast nook. They gulp the pasta down, like hungry wolves who haven’t eaten in days. I’m even scared they might fight each other for seconds.
Jackson finishes three servings, shoveling food in like he had minutes to live and wanted to die full. It is quiet for a while, just chewing and the clinking of metal against plate. Then Jackson pushes his bowl back and takes a deep breath, as if getting ready for a boring movie he’s forced to watch.
“Alright, Gremlin. What’s your story?”
River looks up at him like she is deciding whether he is emotionally stable enough to handle it. Apparently, he’s not, cause she sighs like a teacher forced to explain math to a dog.
“Okay. I’m River-Rose Moore. I just turned nine three weeks ago. I hate Brussels sprouts and bullies, and I like skateboarding, animals, and doing stuff with the twins.”
“Twins?” Enrique asks.
She looks between us like we are trying to trick her into saying her Social Security number. Then she crosses her arms and stares at the floor.
“Lee has a twin,” Jackson snobs. I’m surprised. I didn’t know that. And judging by the look on his face, neither did Enrique. Axel might have known. Obviously, Jackson did.
River keeps looking at the ground.
Her sudden, glum appearance touches my heart. The way her chin juts out, even though her eyes are rimmed red. The dirt on her boots. The scab on her cheek. The way she acts like she doesn’t need anyone, but keeps checking the door like maybe Lee might walk in after all.
What has she been through because she’s worried about a loved one? And at her tender age.
I think about all the things that could have gone wrong … she could have been kidnapped, molested, killed. It brings me back to the question …
“Where are your parents?”
“Mom’s a tarot reader and part-time witch. She says she’s not, but she totally is. She smokes weird stuff and reads tea leaves and talks to dead birds.”
Enrique raises an eyebrow. “Sounds like someone Logan dated.” I can just wonder if these boys will ever grow up.
“Was it Valerie?”
Enrique chokes on air. Axel looks genuinely alarmed. “How do you know about Valerie?”
“Google.”
Axel holds a hand to his chest. “This child is dangerous.”
River grins, pleased. “I know … right.”
Jackson leans his elbows onto the counter. He looks really tired.
“What about your dad?” I ask.
River’s expression dims a little. “He lost his leg a while back. Freak accident. He changes the story depending on how much he’s been drinking. And it’s because of him that Lee’s now missing. Came here to pay for his darn shark.” Her head jerks up, face dumbstruck.
“What if the shark ate Lee?” she almost shouts, huge teal eyes on Jackson.
“If that shark ate Lee … I will be so peeved off with my dad.” She pouts.
“Why would your dad want a shark?” I’m so lost right now. Trying to wrap my head around it all.
“I don’t know. We don’t even have a pool.”
Axel laughs from his gut. River glares at him, and he slurps his laughter back to a wide grin, holding his hands protectively over his tummy as if he expects to get maimed.
“It’s probably a loan shark,” Enrique corrects. That makes more sense.
River shrugs. “I don’t know … could be a great white. Hard to tell the difference until you look up close. And I haven’t seen the fish.”
Enrique exhales through his nose.
“Anyway,” River continues, unbothered, “My dad does stupid things all the time. Just like my brother.”
“Lee says it’s because men have that one oyster thing that affects their brains.”
“I’m reluctant to ask,” Axel ponders, “But what oyster thing?”
River ponders, thinking hard. “Test … oyster … one,” she says slowly.
Enrique strips a chuckle, and she now immediately glares at him.
“It’s true … ask Lee … that oyster makes boys dumb as skunks.”
He swallows his laughter. She’s not wrong.
“Eh … you just need to say it in one go … it’s one word … testosterone.”
“Oh … yeah … that sounds better, doesn’t it? Test-oyster-one.” She spins on her stool.
I smile. My spirit is lifted. And judging by the smiles on the other faces, so are theirs. Even Jackson is slightly elevated from hell. This girl is weird, but like Lee, her energetic, unfiltered behavior rubs off on a person and picks up your soul.
“Won’t your parents look for you?” I ask, deviating from the oyster topic.
“I left a note. They won’t find me quick … because Mom is —” She stops spinning and frowns deeply, concentrating. “— geo-grap-hically dys-lexic.” I wonder whose words those are. Probably Lee’s. “She can’t find North on a map — even with a compass. And Dad can’t move very fast … one leg … remember.”
“And Storm is too far … in London. That’s in England. He quit hockey to sing in a band.” She rolls her eyes very dramatically and sighs deeply. “That boy changes his mind as frisquintly as a rat poops.” I grin. You just have to love the way she talks.
She spins on the stool again like it is a merry-go-round on fire.
“You’re gonna puke,” I warn.
“I’ve thrown up in worse places,” she says, but stops spinning. Then she points at her own foot. “One time it went into my shoe. I walked around with it for like two hours. Reeked.”
Axel blinks. “Why would you tell us that?”
River shrugs. “Sometimes when I’m bored or stressed, I let out a lot of useless information.” She turns her chair so she’s facing Jackson.
“So what are we gonna do about Lee?” She beams at him with a crunched face.
“WE are doing nothing,” he says gruffly. “You’re staying here. I’m going to get Lee back MYSELF.” Her face turns from breezy to sudden determination.
“Really?” she asks. “You’re really going to get her back. Alone.”
He nods. “That’s what you do when someone you … eh … care about disappears.” Did he just …
Silence fills the room. I’m not sure who’s spooked the most. Or whether Jackson even realizes what he said. Maybe his brain is too tired to think.
“I need you to trust me,” he says quietly as if he didn’t just drop a bomb. She nods.
“Lee trusts you … so I trust you.” Her face scrunches up. “But if you fail, I will haunt your soul forever.”
“And, dude, you’re a hot mess. I’ve seen better dog turds.” Her nose wrinkles. “You even smell like one.”
“Maybe you should take a hot shower and sleep a little. My … eh Lee needs you in tip-top shape, not poop shape.”
“She’s right, bro,” Enrique adds. “You do look like shit.”
“And you really stink,” Axel teases.
Then, of course, River finishes, “Technically a grinch. And that won’t help Lee one bit.”
Mini-human crosses her arms and casts a forlorn glance Jackson’s way. A ten out of ten to this kid for courage. Or maybe it’s just plain juvenile stupidity.
“You do at least know what a Grinch is?” she asks.
Jackson smirks as he gets up from his chair. “A green, furry, pot-bellied, pear-shaped, snub-nosed, humanoid creature with a cat-like face and cynical personality,” Jackson rumbles it off on one note and one breath. “Stink. Stank. Stunk.”
River rolls her eyes dramatically.
“So, madam, I’ll go take that shower.” He struts off.
“You got my approval, Jackson Devil Blackburn,” she shouts after him. “You can buy a ring.”