I’m not sure if she hasn’t heard me or simply decided to ignore my warning, because she launches the huge round serving tray toward my brother as if it’s an oversized freesbee. Dozens of bite-sized hors d'oeuvres fly off the silver projectile, hitting the bodies and faces of people gathered around the scene while a makeshift weapon slices the air toward my brother’s head. Arturo ducks at the last moment, and the platter ends up in the rose bushes behind him.
“Goddamned crazy woman!” he roars and lunges toward Tara who’s already reaching for something else to throw. “Were you raised in a f*****g jungle?”
Everyone around seems to be frozen in place, simply gawking at the commotion unfolding before their eyes. Even the music has died down, and I spot the band members leaving the raised pl
