“Here,” Oscar said, pushing up on his tiptoes to hand her a photo. “This is the first picture I took. It sure looks like I surprised you.”
Libby stared at the blurred image. Looking positively terrified, the flash lit them in a harsh burst of yellowy-orange as they clung to each other, wide-eyed. They looked like they’d emerged from one of those jarring so-called fun houses with mirrors that distorted bodies and uneven flooring that could make the most balanced human feel off-kilter enough to lose their lunch, which wasn’t too far off from what she’d experienced tonight.
“Thanks, Oscar,” she said, accepting the image, then showed the shot to Raz.
Shell-shocked, the man nodded. “Brilliant work, lad.”
“It sure caught the emotion of the moment,” she said to the boy, then realized her feet were dangling. And, oh no! She was in Erasmus Cress’s arms in front of everyone.
She leaned in as all eyes remained locked on them. “You can put me down,” she whispered.
“Yeah, good idea,” he replied, gently lowering her to the ground.
She was about to ask her friends what in Buddha’s name they were doing inside Raz’s home when Phoebe pointed to the floor.
“Those are from the video!” the child exclaimed, delight written on her face.
Libby felt the blood drain from her cheeks.
Phoebe Gale had seen the video?
And then she remembered the words that preceded the burst of light.
Say, beefcake.
Oscar had seen the video, too.
She didn’t have a second to get a word out before Phoebe started speaking again.
“Are those tiny torpedoes, Libby? Is that why you were throwing them? Can we put them in the pool? Can we race them? And, boy oh boy, now that I can see them up close, they look like big plastic hot dogs with little motors, and you’ve got a ton of them. There’s a pretty rainbow one. I call dibs, Oscar. That one is mine,” the little girl finished.
Libby inhaled a tight breath. She didn’t think adding another layer of humiliation to this evening was possible.
She was wrong.
“Do not touch anything, Phoebe,” Rowen called.
“Same goes for you, Oscar. Hands where we can see them,” Mitch exclaimed as Penny and Charlotte slapped their hands over their mouths to restrain what looked like a serious bout of giggles.
Oscar crouched down and took a picture of the Rainbow Screamer, then handed the still-developing Polaroid to Phoebe. “Here you go. I don’t know why we can’t touch the hot dog torpedoes, but you can put this picture in your room.”
The little girl twirled and pressed the photo to her chest. “I’ll tape it to my door, so we can see it every time we walk down the hall.” The child paused, then squealed. “I have a better idea.”
“What is it?” Oscar chimed.
“I’ll use my magnet and put the rainbow hotdog torpedo on the refrigerator. Then we can look at it while we eat dinner. What do you think, Penny and Uncle Row? It’s a pretty awesome idea.”
Rowen adjusted his glasses, but even the thick lenses couldn’t hide the complete look of mortification on the man’s face. He parted his lips, but nothing came out.
“Phoebe,” Penny said, stifling a grin. “We can talk about that when we get home.”
Phoebe shared a look with Oscar and groaned. “That means no in adult-talk,” the little girl whisper-shouted to her buddy, then beamed at Raz.
“Hi, Erasmus Cress! We like your house,” she tossed out, not missing a beat.
“Thanks?” the man stammered. He blinked a few times like he still wasn’t sure what was going on.
That made two of them.
“Libby, guess what?” Phoebe continued, undeterred by the bevy of vibrators scattered across the floor.
“What?” Libby replied, attempting to appear as normal as possible after dispersing sex toys in front of minors. She could feel her cheeks heat, but Phoebe, and Oscar for that matter, were quite unbothered by the strange set of events.
“Oscar and I were having a sleepover at my house. We were playing Go Fish in the living room when we saw you and Erasmus on the TV.”
“You’re good at throwing things, Libby,” Oscar added.
“And then Uncle Row turned off the TV real fast, and Penny ran into the room and said we were going on a special trip to Erasmus’s house. But there were a bunch of vans parked outside your gate, so we came in through the back. And we had to be quiet like cheetahs about to pounce on a gazelle because we didn’t want the people outside to know we were here.”
“Yeah, we got down real low so nobody would see us,” Oscar added, acting out the covert movements.
“But then we got bored waiting for you guys to come inside. And you don’t have any cookies or hot dogs here,” Phoebe continued, giving Raz the stink eye.
“I don’t eat cookies and hot dogs when I’m training,” Raz replied, sounding like a man who wasn’t sure if he was asleep or awake when Rowen found his voice.
“Is there a safe place for children to play in this house without any access to social media or televisions?”
Mitch shifted his stance as he took in the sixteen vibrators. “A place without—”
“Mechanical hot dog torpedoes,” Oscar supplied.
“Yeah, those,” Mitch agreed, his eyes still about to pop out of his skull.
“There’s a room with vintage arcade games and pinball machines down the hall,” Raz answered, gesturing to the right.
Libby took a second to survey the gilded foyer that could rival any high-end hotel. The entry boasted not one but two chandeliers and an enormous staircase. It was like she’d walked into an updated version of Downton Abbey.
“Are you sure you don’t have any hot dog torpedoes in the game room? We could have mini sword fights with them, too,” Oscar exclaimed.
“No, lad, there aren’t any mechanical hot dog torpedoes in the house,” Raz answered, and the words sounded even more ridiculous in a rolling British accent.
“Why don’t you two find the pinball machines. We’ll come to get you when we’re ready to leave,” Charlotte said, patting the kids on their backs.
“Are you sure you don’t have any cookies in this place, Raz, like under your bed, or behind the aquarium, or in the garage in a box marked not cookies?” Phoebe asked, eyeing the man.
“Phoebe? Do you have cookies hidden in those places at our house?” Penny asked.
The little girl grabbed Oscar’s hand. “Let’s play pinball,” she cried, grinning from ear to ear as the pair sprinted from the foyer and disappeared down one of the sprawling hallways.
“I was wondering what was in that box,” Rowen murmured, shaking his head.
With the children out of earshot, Libby looked from Penny to Charlotte. “What are you doing here?”
Charlotte crossed her arms. One didn’t need to be a psychic to see that her girls were about to break into mother hen mode.
“Oscar already answered that,” Char replied.
Libby frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Beefcake,” Penny tossed out, then raised an eyebrow.
Libby braced herself. Here it comes.
“Why didn’t you tell us that Raz was the beefcake you’ve been going on and on about?” Charlotte pressed.