“Yeah, and it’s got a nose like a pig and ears like a rabbit and its tongue is ten inches long!” Hunter said and stuck out his tongue at Tyler to demonstrate.

Tyler, of course, reciprocated the gesture.

“All right, you two banditos!” I reached in the refrigerator and took out the container. “Let’s get you home. Make sure you get your bath. The Lakers are playing tonight and Sharon’s coming over.”

“Sharon?” Leslie said.

“The dentist,” I said.

“I don’t like her,” Tyler said.

“Me, either,” Hunter said.

“Have y’all met her?” I said.

“No, but I already don’t like her,” Tyler said.

“Oh, come on. You can’t dislike someone you haven’t even met, can you?” I said.

“I don’t like the way Dad sounds when he’s talking to her on the phone. He gets all mushy,” Tyler said.

“Yeah, and she calls him every five minutes,” Hunter added.

Really? I thought. That did not bode well for me usurping the position as front-runner.

“Hmmm,” Leslie said.

“Well, I’m coming over tonight, too,” I said, “so I’ll give y’all a full assessment tomorrow.”

“You are?” Leslie said.

“Yay!” said the boys with more enthusiasm than I would have expected.

I shrugged my shoulders at her and shooed them out the door.

“Fix a plate, then nuke it for one minute on high!” I said, calling after them. Then I turned back to Leslie. “They move fast at that age.”

“Sweetheart, let me understand something,” she said. “You gonna be a third wheel tonight?”

“That appears to be the case,” I said.

“Well, for God’s sake, go wash your hair. And scrub your nails. You look rode hard and put up wet.”

“Thanks,” I said.

Sisters.

“Here’s a fun bee fact,” I said.

“What?” Hunter said.

“Bees are cold blooded. When the temperature reaches below fifty degrees, they can’t fly!”

Chapter Eight

Bee Team

It just so happened I had a purple sweater and it was relatively new, the perfect color for a Lakers game. It looked just right with my khaki-colored capris. Leslie loaned me her leopard-print ballet slippers.

“Capris? Really?” she said.

“No?”

“No. What are you? Fifty? Wear my leggings.”

“If you say so!” I pulled them on, thinking they were a little immodest.

“Meow,” she said. “On the prowl.”

“Meow, indeed,” I said and shook my head.

I blew my hair out and Leslie flat-ironed it. I actually looked better than pretty good. No one would have ever said I was gorgeous, that’s for sure. But I had nice skin that didn’t need evening out with makeup. If I used a little mascara, my eyes seemed bigger. And I was a lip gloss fan. I’d have to say my thick hair that was just past my shoulders was probably my best asset.

Leslie was focused on my evening’s agenda like a heat-seeking missile.