Grim & Bear It: A Grimlock Family Short

by Amanda M. Lee

  “And you have naked girlie magazines, and they’re disrespectful to women,” Aisling shot back. “I shouldn’t have to listen to you.”

  “What is it with you and those magazines?” Dad asked. “If you dislike them so, don’t look at them.”

  “They’re disrespectful.”

  “So … don’t look at them.” Dad appeared legitimately confused by Aisling’s stance. “I don’t see why this is a big deal.”

  “Really.” Aisling took a deliberate step away from Dad and toward the stairs. “I think Mom should explain it to you.”

  Dad’s amused smile slipped. “What do you mean?” He clearly sensed trouble.

  “I think Mom should explain it to you,” Aisling repeated, hopping up the stairs one at a time, making a big show of elaborately swinging her arms as she did so. “In fact, … Mom! Dad doesn’t think those dirty magazines Redmond has are bad and I’m really upset!”

  Dad scowled as he watched my sister go. “She’s definitely turning into her mother,” he muttered.

  “You insisted we keep her,” Braden pointed out. “I wanted to leave her at the zoo when she was two. Someone would’ve taken her, and we would’ve been free.”

  “Be still, Braden,” Dad muttered, shaking his head. “Everyone upstairs. We need to have a talk, and then your mother and I are out of here. I won’t allow Aisling to ruin our night out.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that. “Good luck.”

  2

  Two

  Aisling had her head bent together with Mom’s when we hit the kitchen. The look Aisling lobbed in my direction told me I had a rough night ahead of me. I wasn’t fond of babysitting my siblings – I figured once they were teenagers they didn’t need supervision – but my parents were adamant that someone be in charge because things devolved into bedlam when no one took control.

  That meant me. I was in charge, though my brothers and sisters rarely saw it that way. As a group, we’d run off every brave soul who’d volunteered to babysit for us by the time I hit the age of ten, so my parents had to fish in the family pool if they ever wanted a night out. Even the family pool was dry by the time I hit sixteen, so babysitting duties fell to me after that.

  “Your mother and I are going to dinner,” Dad announced as he walked into the kitchen behind me, barely sparing a glance for my brothers Aidan and Cillian as they ate sandwiches at the kitchen island. “That means Redmond is in charge. I don’t want to hear any complaints.”

  “I don’t have a problem with Redmond being in charge,” Cillian offered, wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin. He was always the easiest going of my siblings, so I expected that response. “I’ll respect him in the same manner I respect you and Mom.”

  “Thank you, Cillian.” Dad beamed at the calmest Grimlock with unfettered affection. “Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite?”

  Aisling made a face that was straight out of a Desperate Housewives episode. “You just told me I was your favorite.”

  Dad was blasé. “Things change, kid. You’ve got to learn to roll with it.”

  “Whatever.” Aisling focused on Mom. “I feel disrespected and don’t think Redmond should be able to boss me around if he doesn’t respect me as a woman.”

  Mom smirked. Before Aisling and Aidan came along – they were twins and the breaking point for Dad, who insisted the Grimlocks were done procreating at that point – she was the only woman in the family. Aisling’s addition evened the scales a bit, although I always maintained Aisling caused the scales to completely tip into rampant estrogen territory because she had a huge personality.

  “And why do you think that again?” Mom asked. She was always the picture of patience, even when everyone else in the house raged like zombies on a bender with unlimited brains at their disposal.

  “Because he has dirty magazines and Dad always told me that he would disown me if I ever posed like that,” Aisling replied. “If I can’t do it that means it’s wrong. You said that treating me different because I was a girl was wrong and disrespectful. That means those magazines are disrespectful.”

  “I’m not sure I follow your logic,” Mom replied.

  “Then you’re clearly not listening.” Aisling refused to back down. “I don’t want Redmond to be in charge. I don’t like it when he’s the boss.”

  “And why is that?” Mom smoothed Aisling’s flyaway hair. It was long these days, and I was convinced it was one of the reasons people thought she was older than she really was. I much preferred it when she wore it in pigtails to keep it out of her face. Now she wore it long and flowing, and boys everywhere were starting to sniff around. She wouldn’t turn fourteen for another two weeks. She was much too young for that.

  “Because he tells me what to do, and no one tells him what to do and it’s not fair.”

  “Ah, I think we’re getting to the heart of matters.” Mom snagged a cookie from the plate on the table and handed it to Aisling. “You’ll get over it. Your brother is the oldest, and that means he’s in charge.”

  Aisling was incensed. “What sort of cockamamie rule is that?”

  “One that has been followed throughout the centuries,” Dad replied. “Your brother is the oldest. That means he’s the most responsible. If you guys hadn’t chased off every babysitter in a fifty-mile radius he would be able to go out with his friends instead of watching you heathens. That’s not an option, so we have to pay him extra to put up with your shenanigans. If you ask me, he’s the one getting the raw end of the deal.”

  “No one asked you.” Aisling made a face before turning a set of pleading eyes to Mom. “Can’t I just be in charge of myself?”

  Mom shook her head as Dad growled.

  “Absolutely not,” Dad answered. “If we left you in charge of yourself we wouldn’t have a house to come back to.”

  “Whatever.” Aisling chomped into the cookie, a pronounced pout on her face. “This bites.”

  “Yes, well, life isn’t always fair.” Mom finished fussing over Aisling’s hair and focused on the rest of us. “I want you all to behave for your brother. He’s doing us a favor by watching you so your father and I can have a quiet night to ourselves.”

  “I don’t see why you want a quiet night,” Aisling argued. “That sounds boring. I think you would have a lot more fun with us.”

  “Then we’re clearly not explaining our plans well,” Dad drawled, smirking when Aisling narrowed her eyes. Even when my sister is being a brat my father still dotes on her. I can’t figure it out. If I was responsible for Aisling twenty-four hours a day, I’d lock her in the dungeon and let her out only for special occasions. She’s just that wicked.

  “We’re going to that new restaurant on the water,” Mom supplied, pointing toward a sticky note affixed to the refrigerator. “That is the number, although you can get us on your father’s cell phone if you have an emergency. We plan to go to a movie afterward, so you guys are going to be on your own until about midnight. Do you think you can handle that?”

  I nodded perfunctorily, ideas of exactly how I was going to torture Aisling the second my parents left the house flitting through my head. “Everything will be fine,” I said, smiling in a manner that I knew would set Aisling’s teeth on edge. “It’s not like this is my first time being in charge. I’ve got everything under control.”

  Dad smiled, although it was halfway between a smirk and a grimace, as if he was hoping I was right but had a feeling I was in over my head and would end up regretting my lot in life before the stroke of midnight. “That’s what we’re counting on. Good luck.”

  Good luck? I didn’t need luck. I was the oldest Grimlock. I was beyond luck.

  “I’M GOING TO KILL you, Aisling!”

  My luck lasted only a good twenty minutes after Mom and Dad left. After that, Aisling and Braden decided to lock horns over the Xbox – Aisling wanted to play Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Braden demanded Resident Evil – and things took a turn for the worse. Sometimes being in charge isn�
�t nearly as much fun as it initially sounds.

  “What now?” I demanded, stalking into the game room to find Aisling and Braden grappling over controllers.

  “I was here first,” Braden gritted out, giving Aisling a vicious kick that sent her flying into the couch. “She won’t stop messing around, and I’ve had it.”

  Instinctively I moved to Aisling’s side. She was much smaller than Braden, and I was worried she might be hurt given the kick. “Ais, are you okay?”

  Instead of tears, I found Aisling glowering at our brother. It was clear that she planned to pay him back rather than go the girly route and cry.

  “Hey! Look at me.”

  Aisling slowly shifted her eyes to me, fury evident. “I’m going to cut out his tongue and make him eat it!”

  She’s terrifying when she wants to be. Screw her size; she can hold her own with a professional wrestler. I’m almost positive she can make an entire team of them quake in their shoes and cry for their mommies. “You’re not going to do anything. I’ll handle Braden.”

  “I want him punished,” Aisling hissed. “If not, I’m telling Mom and Dad that he kicked me. He’s not allowed to kick.”

  That was true. As boys, we were allowed to wrestle as long as there was no eye gouging or blows that could cause actual physical damage. Aisling was allowed to participate in that wrestling when she was little – although Dad was genuinely leery about it – but we had to be careful not to hurt her. That usually meant we didn’t want to wrestle with her at all because my father’s wrath could be terrible.

  As we grew older, the rules progressed. My father didn’t pay much attention when the wrestling got out of control as long as it involved only the boys. When Aisling stuck her nose into things, Dad went into overprotective mode, and the entire house shook with all the yelling.

  “He’s not,” I agreed, sliding a dark look toward Braden. He would get us all in trouble if he wasn’t careful. “You know the rules, Braden. You’re not allowed to hurt her like that.”

  “But she was being a pain,” Braden protested.

  “I was just trying to stand up for myself,” Aisling shot back. “Mom says I should always do that and not let you guys run roughshod all over me.”

  “Since when do you listen to what Mom and Dad say?” Braden snapped. “You’re usually the one who ignores the rules the second you’re away from them.”

  “That is a vicious lie.”

  “Not really,” I countered. “You do ignore the rules more than the rest of us. Still, you can’t kick her, Braden. You could hurt her.”

  “Yeah, she’s delicate,” Aidan called out from his spot on the other couch where he was fooling around with his iPod. “You can’t be mean to delicate girls because you’ll go to jail.”

  “Screw jail,” Cillian interjected. He sat at the wide table at the other side of the room working on a puzzle. “Dad will do worse to you than any jail inmate could if he finds out you kicked Aisling.”

  Aisling looked almost gleeful at the hangdog expression on Braden’s face. “Yeah. I’ll tell Daddy. How do you like that?”

  “You need to stop being such a tattletale,” I warned, wagging a finger in her face. “We won’t play with you at all if you don’t knock that off.”

  Aisling rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m almost fourteen. I don’t play. I … entertain the world with my fabulous personality.”

  I blinked several times in rapid succession. “Where did you pick up that load of crap?”

  “Jerry.”

  Jeremiah “Jerry” Collins is Aisling’s best friend. He has been since they were in kindergarten and Jerry decided to adopt her because he was convinced she wouldn’t make friends on her own otherwise. Given Aisling’s attitude, I thought that was a fair bet. Even now, nine years after the fact, Jerry is the only friend Aisling has other than Aidan. As twins, Aisling and Aidan are joined at the hip … even when they are at war. It’s an interesting relationship.

  “I should’ve seen that coming,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck as I made up my mind on the spot. “Braden, give Aisling the game controller.”

  “What?” Braden sputtered in protest. “I was playing first.”

  “Yeah? Well, you should’ve thought about that before you kicked her. Now she gets to play what she wants and you get to pout as part of your punishment.”

  Braden’s expression turned mutinous. “I can’t believe you’re taking her side.”

  “What side? I saw you kick her. You could’ve really hurt her.”

  Ever the pragmatist, Cillian agreed with me. “You really could have, Braden. She’s tiny. You kicked her hard enough that you could’ve given her a concussion if she hit her head the wrong way. Even now, for all we know, she could have internal bleeding. If the bleed is slow enough, it could fill her stomach for hours and then she could die without any warning. I mean … you should be more careful with her.”

  Braden balked. “She’s a pain!”

  Aisling was most definitely a pain. She was also our baby sister, and the idea that she might be injured gave me chills. “Do you feel okay? I mean … you don’t think you’re bleeding into your stomach or anything, do you?”

  Leave it to Cillian to get my mind working hard enough that I was almost ready to panic and drive Aisling to the hospital even though I’d seen her absorb much harder blows while fighting with Braden.

  Aisling made a face before flicking me between the eyebrows. “I’m fine, worrywart.” She let loose an impish smile. “I promise to tell you if I’m bleeding into my stomach in plenty of time to save me before death comes calling. Besides, we’re reapers. We would know if my name suddenly popped up on a list.”

  That was a very good point. Still … my father would not take it well if his only daughter dropped dead on my watch. “You’re not sore or anything, are you?”

  “I’m fine.” Aisling waved off my concern. “I might have a bruise, but it’s not the end of the world.” She plucked the game controller out of Braden’s hand and sneered. “I also get to play what I want, so that somehow makes the aches and pains go away.”

  “I saw that coming,” Cillian said.

  We all saw that coming. “Well, enjoy your game, Aisling. As for you, Braden, you should probably take a walk around the house to calm yourself.”

  Instead of cursing me out for offering the suggestion, Braden merely frowned. “I hate being a part of this family sometimes. I especially hate it when everyone decides it’s time for Aisling to get her way.”

  “I love being a part of this family on those days,” Aisling countered, gracing Braden with a look that was haughty enough to cause steam to boil from his ears.

  “Take a walk, Braden,” I ordered.

  As if compelled by a force he couldn’t control, Braden turned on his heel and stalked out of the room. He didn’t even glare over his shoulder, which meant he was being consumed by fury and needed the timeout even more than I’d realized. Whew. That was one less thing to worry about.

  “Play your game and try to behave, Aisling,” I instructed. “If you could be quiet for even twenty minutes, I would greatly appreciate it.”

  Aisling rolled her eyes and tossed the controller on the sofa. “Jerry is coming over. You know how he feels about video games. They’re only fun if you can pick your own accessories, and that’s not the type of game I want to play.”

  “If you didn’t want to play, why did you make such a big deal about stopping Braden from playing Resident Evil?”

  Aisling shrugged. “He was bugging me.”

  “Oh, geez. Now you’re bugging me.” I flicked her ear and moved to the phone on the wall when it started ringing. Under normal circumstances I would’ve ignored a call. Only telemarketers rang the regular house line. This particular phone was part of a separate line, though, and it was known as the reaper hotline. I couldn’t ignore it.

  “Hello?” I did my best to sound mature and in control as I answered. If this was official business, even
if I was only taking a message for my father, I didn’t want to come off as an idiot. Or, worse, the babysitter. I hated being referred to as that.

  “This is Margaret Bevins,” the woman on the other end of the call said crisply. “We have an emergency job that needs immediate attention.”

  I widened my eyes, my heart rate picking up a notch. “Okay.”

  As if sensing something was off, Margaret took the call in another direction. “Who am I speaking with?”

  “Redmond Grimlock.”

  “And where is your father?”

  “He’s out.”

  “And your mother?”

  “With him.”

  “I see.” Margaret’s tone was clipped and cool. “I guess that means you’ll have to handle your first emergency job.”

  Two hours ago I would’ve been excited at the prospect. Now? Yeah, not so much. “I’m not sure now is a good time,” I said, looking over my siblings lazing around the room. They didn’t look particularly interested in the conversation. “Maybe you should call someone else.”

  “This isn’t like substitute teaching, son,” Margaret supplied. “We’re reapers. I called you for a reason. This is your territory. There is no one else.”

  Crap. She had a point. “But … .” I couldn’t tear my eyes from Aisling, who was lying flat on her back on the couch, feet above her head so she could study her toenails. “Now really isn’t a good time.”

  “That’s too bad.” Margaret made a tsking sound with her tongue. “You need to go to Lyndon Street and Outer Drive.”

  I gulped. That was a rough area. “But … .”

  “There’s a warehouse there,” Margaret continued, ignoring my feeble attempt to dissuade her from giving me the assignment. “There’s a young man named Peter Langstrom inside. He will be shuffling off the mortal coil in exactly … seventy-five minutes.”

  She sounded as if she was looking at a watch as she delivered the time.

  “You need to make sure you’re there to absorb the soul,” Margaret said briskly. “You know what happens if we miss a soul, right?”