“Homework,” he says, smirking while gesturing toward the table. “But I think they should eat first.”
“We’ll order breakfast.”
“No, I’ll cook,” Fairuza says, fiddling with the plastic around the container of eggs.
“You’ll just burn it,” I mutter. “Why not let me order us food? Then today, you can practice on the stove.”
“What will I do with the food I don’t burn?” she growls at me.
“I’ll eat it. I need a lot of food to stay this big.”
“He has many muscles,” Pixie says, trying to calm her frustrated mother.
Future howls in misery, dialing up the noise level.
“What’s wrong with him?” I ask Pixie.
“All the fruit is making his stomach hurt. We couldn’t figure out the stove,” she says and then smiles at Conor.
“Don’t do that,” I say, but Pixie just ignores me.
I’m unsure if she understands my complaint, but Conor does. I catch him grinning while he takes a menu from the fridge and shows it to the women.
“They have egg scrambles with meat and potatoes. That seems similar to what you wanted to make. There are vegetables in it, too. We can get it delivered in fifteen or twenty minutes if we put in a rush order.”
“Always spending money,” Fairuza says and frowns at me.
“Anders is important to our club,” Conor says and opens the fridge. “He makes good money but lacked the family to spend it on. Why not let him take care of you? Then you can take care of him.”
“Take care of him, how?”
Conor pulls a container from the fridge and digs out two chicken legs. He walks over to a whining Future and hands the food to him.
“He has teeth for this, right?” Conor asks Dove, who only stares. “Here, you can eat this one.”
The girl takes hers while Future grabs for his and shoves it in his mouth. Pixie hurries over to keep the boy from choking.
“Maybe drumsticks weren’t a smart idea,” Conor says, chuckling. “Still, a little meat will hold them over until Fairuza picks what she wants.”
“What does he want?” Fairuza asks Conor rather than me, even though I’m standing right fucking here.
“I think he wants your daughter to love him,” Conor loudly whispers. “He wants to have a family. Everyone in this community has wives, kids, and moms. You can provide those things to Anders.”
Fairuza gives me a dark scowl, but I realize she isn’t angry. She feels helpless here. Even the stove fucks with her.
“Mama, look at the baby,” Pixie says, now holding Future, who chews at the meat and smiles for his mother.
Dove nibbles at hers and keeps an eye on Conor. I really hope she doesn’t start nursing a crush on him. Am I the dad in that scenario? Do I have to threaten him to stay away from Dove? No, Conor wouldn’t want to date a kid.
“I’ll call in the order,” he announces and then gestures toward me. “We’ll get them fed and then start working on the map.”
“Map?” Pixie asks Conor, and I again get the urge to stop her from talking to the younger man.
“Of the Village,” he explains. “We want to know where everything is and who the people are.”
“So, you can attack?” Fairuza asks, looking up from the menu.
“Maybe. We want to end the blockade. If we kill John Marks and his most loyal people, we can open up the Village and let the Volkshalberd return to town. People won’t starve. The club can go back to our schedules. Everyone is happy.”
“Except John Marks,” Fairuza says, smiling at Pixie. Then she frowns at me. “What happens to us after he’s dead?”
“Pixie is staying here,” I say, sounding a little unhinged.
Okay, based on Conor’s cocked eyebrow, I sound more than a little crazy. Still, I just woke up, and I’m not used to having so much crying or activity this early in my day.
“I want her to stay here, and she wants you to stay with her,” I say in a voice that sounds almost calm.
Fairuza narrows her eyes at me but then focuses on Conor ordering the food. She watches him type into his phone. Pixie ignores them and me. Her gaze is on Future, who is a calm little fucker now that his stomach enjoyed meat.
“Why didn’t you eat bread?” I ask Pixie.
“Where is it?”
I point to the cabinet, and she frowns. “I thought the food went in the fridge. We couldn’t find it in there.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, stroking her bare shoulders and admiring the pale blue tank top she’s wearing. “You look beautiful.”
Pixie’s whole face brightens. She glances at Dove, who blushes. I get the feeling these two were gossiping earlier when I was asleep. Based on their little grins, I scored high marks.
PART 4: NO TIME TO BREATHE
PIXIE
Anders doesn’t like Conor. He keeps moving around the other man as if trying to intimidate him. I don’t know if this behavior is a club rule, but I find it strange. Still, I don’t involve myself in his work. Anders has been a motorcycle person for most of his life. He knows what he’s doing.
Mama said that Future asked for food as soon as he woke. Hearing their voices when I was in bed with Anders, I didn’t want to wake the grand sequoia as he slept so comfortably. Tiptoeing, I changed into different clothes and joined my family in the kitchen
“I will make eggs and potatoes,” Mama announced, looking excited.
“How?”
“On the stove,” she explained and then reached over for the knob to show me. After the government ended the Collective, they put us in an apartment with a different kind of stove. That one didn’t have fire. I thought this one did. I saw the flame yesterday with Topanga. But then, Mama nearly broke the stove trying to turn it on.
“I don’t understand,” she said more than once. “Is there a special button to make it work?”
We looked around the kitchen. Then I thought maybe there was a button on Anders’s phone like with the lights and cameras. But he remained asleep,
