Heart of Stone (Part III)

III. Chapter 33 | Part 2 - Aubree

"What are we going to do?" Aubree asked as she and Brooke took Whiskey and the female Labrador and Husky out for a stroll—mostly to get away from everyone to talk in private. "I can probably get Dad drunk, but Mom is another matter. She doesn't like getting drunk. A slight buzz, maybe, but never drunk."

All three dogs stopped to sniff a bush as Aubree heaved a sigh and raked her hand down her face. "This was a bad idea."

Brooke sighed with her. "It's your call. They're your parents."

That wasn't helpful.

If she couldn't get her parents drunk, how could she get them to agree to spend the night here?

"Where will we be staying?" Aubree asked, hoping the information might spur some ideas.

"There are safe rooms in the lower basement of the community center, kind of like underground bunkers. That's where the elderly, pregnant, and pups go when there's a threat such as this. Everyone who can't go out and hunt tonight will go down there. It's nothing spectacular, but you'll be safe and that's the important thing."

Aubree nodded in understanding. The information didn't give her any new ideas. She'd never be able to convince her mother to go there without some kind of valid reason. If they lived in a tornado zone, they could fake a warning, but they didn't. They lived in a safe neighborhood in Chicago as well. The only crime ever reported was the odd vandalism and theft cases. There was never any gang violence, shootings, stabbings, and the like.

Even if she used gang violence as a reason to keep them from going home, would they take it seriously to stay, or would it seem too odd since Stone left for that same reason?

"Bree," Brooke cut off her train of thought, "my mom offered to make one of her famous cocktails that is sure to knock your mother off her feet, if you want."

Aubree gaped at her.

Brooke carried on, "I mean, two of those make a werewolf nice and tipsy, and your mother won't have the tolerance that we have. Coupled with that glass of wine, she'll be out like a light before she downs the last swallow. Plus, she won't even realize how strong it is, so we might be able to get her to try it if we say otherwise."

A shuddering sigh left Aubree's lips. Everything would be so much easier if she could tell them the truth. "Okay. Let's try it. But have your mom make a really weak or non-alcoholic version for me. My mom will be more adventurous if she sees me have one."

Brooke cracked a grin. "Sure thing. We'll all have one, but we'll make yours a virgin."

Aubree elbowed her. "Well, if everyone's going to get tipsy, might as well add a smidgen of alcohol to mine so I'm not left out."

Brooke's grin widened. "Only a smidgen though. You'll have to pretend to get drunk like the rest of us."

They hurried home, giving the dogs a bit of a run.

The cocktail was prepared and Brooke's mother was getting ready to pass them around when they arrived. She gave Aubree hers first with a mischievous gleam in her eyes that crinkled with a smile.

Aubree's mother naturally declined the drink because she'd already had a glass of wine, but at everyone's insistence, she gave into peer pressure so as not to seem rude.

Aubree had never laughed so hard in her life. Her mother was a hilarious drunk and flirted openly with her father like they were a pair of college kids.

"My mom needs to get drunk more often," she whispered to Brooke. "I can finally see now what my dad saw in her forty years ago."

It was only a few hours ago that she discovered the truth that explained why her mother was so high-strung and she couldn't blame her. The past was in the past, though. She needed to let go of it and move on, much like Stone needed to let go and move on with the baby that slipped through his fingers. They were both terrible for mental beatings in that regard.