You not eating enough!” Joel rolled his eyes at his sister—all big boobs, long stomach, and inviting hips. “You should talk, mammi, what? You stuff your bra with apples to keep that tummy so small?” Melody Martinez laughed and ruffled her little brother’s hair. It was late Sunday night, their mother was in bed, and they had lingered so long over dessert to catch up that they had done the dessert dishes and then just broken out the pie and sat, each of them with a fork, and finished it off. “No, I been working out, mammi,” Joel said now through a forkful of pie. “That’s where I met Ian.” “Your psycho roommate?” Melody took her own. Pecan, it was their favorite. Since neither of them planned to stay for actual Thanksgiving, their mother had chosen to go all out for the four days before they both boarded planes and left Denver, Joel for Sacramento and Melody for Los Angeles. “He’s not psycho, Mel,” Joel said seriously.
