High C

13. Nice Work If You Can Get It

"And drop a box off for Aunt Phil quickly because she's on the way," DeeDee chimed in.

"Then we have dinner with the Wurtzes and we'll all be back Christmas night for dinner."

"That gives us a day and a half. It should be safe for you by then, Bob," Alexis said. "We probably won't be down for breakfast. Make sure you don't give your father's pointy sister any of the cookies I like."

Natasha and DeeDee hugged their mother goodnight at the same time. Bob made an attempt to do likewise, but Alexis slipped away quickly to the kitchen where he guessed she was getting her husband's beet juice.

Natasha shrugged sheepishly at DeeDee, who gave her a smooshed smile to indicate she was still on her side. "See you guys in the morning," she said and left the two alone.

Natasha went to high-five Bob.

"You do realize someone actually held me up at gun point."

"It was a cap gun," she whispered, like it was no big deal.

"Yeah, well, it was more realistic than last time."

"What do you want, a bonus?" she yawned.

"Can you take the floor tonight?"

"I'll give you a bonus," Natasha said and led the way upstairs.

******

It was just after two in the morning, and Bob couldn't sleep. He'd dozed off for an hour or so, but he supposed there was too much adrenaline in him still. Plus, he was hungry. There was a massive turkey somewhere in the kitchen that had barely been touched, and thoughts of a sandwich with globs of mayonnaise beckoned him.

When he got to the kitchen, there was no sign of the bird. He heard his stomach's complaints in a series of spiraling gurgles. His head was still in the fridge, considering alternatives when he heard DeeDee's voice behind him and froze.

"Whatcha doin'?"

He would've welcomed her company if it didn't mean having to step back into character. Two days straight of his idiot routine had to be against some actor's equity regulation, and the surreal night had made him weary for a little authenticity. Oh, well. He shut his eyes tight, the bulb of the fridge in the place of a footlight, and dug deep for 'annoying Bob' again.

"When my life was flashing before my eyes, a lot of what I was thinking of was how much I love turkey. It's not in here, though."

He turned around to see DeeDee in her baggy pajamas with a pair of socks as fat as mukluks. Even with her hair half pulled out of her bun and short, slightly crooked bangs, she was still cute. Maybe even cuter because of it, Bob thought, taking into account her softly rounded cheeks, her neat nose, and the pair of dimples, one more prominent than the other, on either side of her gift bow lips. At first sight, he never would've guessed her to be older than her sister, never mind a year older than he was. There was something in her eyes, a wiser, less defiant look, that helped his mind accept it as fact. She yawned without trying to cover it, unaffected by having her own quiet time invaded and by whom.

"That's because the catering company packs up the leftovers for food banks and homeless shelters," she said.

"That isn't fair. I hardly had any," Bob said, grossing himself out. "Why would they want our scraps anyway?"

A strange smirk pushed into DeeDee's larger dimple. She squinted one eye at the same time as if to see him better. "See, you say dumb, really awful things like that, and yet, my sister, one of the most generous, least patient people I know thinks the world of you. How is that, Bob? I'm trying to reconcile the two, but," she yawned again, "I'm having a hard time with it."