Fire Night (Devil's Night, #4.5)

by Penelope Douglas

“Can I count on you for a calm night tonight, so I can enjoy my wife?” “Why are you asking me?” “Because every holiday, shit hits the fan over something,” I barked. He thinned his eyes. “Thanksgiving was not my fault.” “The Fourth of July was your fault.” He folded his arms over his chest as the kids finished lighting the candles. “And who gave Thunder Bay’s basketball team your uncle’s trucks last March so they could dump manure all over Falcon’s Well after losing the state championships?” “Not me,” I shot back, digging out invisible dirt from underneath my fingernail. “I simply left the keys out. I didn’t give them to anybody.” He scoffed, the guests filling the room around us. “Besides, we didn’t lose,” I told him. “They fouled. The ref just didn’t see it.” “Well, the next time you ‘leave the keys out’,” he said, getting in my face and lowering his voice. “Remember, my wife was on the phone with their mayor, getting screamed at for twenty-five minutes.” I opened my mouth to defend myself, but nothing came out. Yeah, okay. He had a point. That wasn’t exactly fair, I guess.