Wicked Appetite (Lizzy and Diesel 1)

Yeah, I thought. And this is just the tip of the iceberg.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

An hour after my dad arrived, I had dinner on the dining room table. Steak, mashed potatoes, and green beans. And vanilla pudding for dessert.

“This is great,” my father said, taking his seat, shaking out his napkin. “I’m starved.”

Carl had followed us in and was standing on tiptoe, peeking over the edge of the table, surveying the food.

“He looks hungry,” my father said.

“He’s always hungry. He just ate enough junk food to feed half of China.”

“Maybe he needs green beans after all that junk food.”

Carl bobbed his head up and down. Yes, he needed green beans. He scurried into the kitchen and returned with a plate and silverware. He plunked the plate and silverware down on the table, climbed onto a chair, and sat erect on his haunches. He could barely see over the table. He jumped down, ran into the living room, and came back with a throw pillow. He carefully placed the throw pillow on his chair and climbed on board. Now he was just right for the table.

“Eep,” Carl said, hands folded in front of him.

“I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t just seen it,” my father said.

I spooned potatoes and beans onto Carl’s plate, and I gave him two small pieces of steak. Carl picked a green bean up with his fingers, smelled it, and ate it. When he was done with his beans, he popped a piece of steak into his mouth and chewed. His lips curled back, his mouth opened, and the half-chewed piece of steak fell out.

“Guess he doesn’t like steak,” my father said.

Carl looked at his mashed potatoes, and he looked over at me. “Eeee?”

“Mashed potatoes,” I told him. “Do you like mashed potatoes?”

Carl shrugged.

I ate a forkful of potatoes. “Mmmm,” I said. “Good.” I handed him his fork. “You try it.”

Carl vigorously shook his head no.

“It’s easy,” I said to Carl. “You just stick the fork in and scoop up potatoes.”

Carl looked from the potatoes, to me, to my father. He looked at the fork and tested a prong with his finger. “Eeh.”

“If you can work a DVD player, you surely can manage a fork,” I said to him.

Carl sucked his lips in and squirmed in his seat.

“Be a man,” my father said to him. “Eat your potatoes!”

Carl squared his shoulders, forked up a glob of potatoes, and concentrated. He got the potatoes almost to his mouth, the fork twisted ever so slightly, and the potatoes fell off onto the floor. “Eeep!” Carl narrowed his eyes and dug into the potatoes again with the same result. “Buh!” He flipped my father the bird, threw the fork across the room, grabbed a handful of potato, and shoved it into his mouth.

My father dug into his food. “This is like eating with your brother.”

After dinner, my dad and Carl settled onto the couch and tuned in to the ball game while I cleaned the kitchen with Cat keeping me company.

“This is a real pain without hot water,” I said to Cat. “First thing tomorrow, I’ll call a plumber and get an estimate on a new water heater.”

Cat fixed his good eye on me and didn’t say anything.

“I love my house, but I didn’t have this problem when I was renting,” I said to him. “I paid my rent, and that was it. I guess you wouldn’t know about that if you’ve always lived here with Ophelia. I suppose you’ve had your own problems, what with your eye and tail and all, but at least you’ve never had to find money for a plumber.” I put a pot of hot water on the stove to heat. “And by the way, I never thanked you for saving me from Hatchet. I really do appreciate it. That was very brave of you.”

Cat sat statue still.