Page 9 of Dragon in Denial
Blood money, Ketu had said at the time, and his father had told him to shut up. It hadn’t been very long after that point that Ketu had left. He hadn’t said goodbye.
He had no expectation that his father’s greeting after all this time would be as welcoming as his mother’s.
Sucking in a fortifying breath, Ketu reached for the knob and pushed the door open.
Mamástood over a pot simmering on the stove, with something sizzling in a frying pan next to it, while his father leaned against the counter nearby, talking, probably about fixing cars, if Ketu had to guess. Zydeco music played in the background, the upbeat accordion-heavy song in stark contrast to Ketu’s current mood.
A third person leaned over the kitchen table, arranging plates and flatware and glasses. Five place settings. For an agonizing moment, he thought his sister was back and their family was intact and, like usual, Antoinette was there for dinner, and everything that had happened ten years ago had been a terrible, terrible nightmare.
It was the hair. That damned, beautiful, curly hair. To be honest, Eulalie and Antoinette looked nothing at all alike, but Ketu was so used to seeing Antoinette with straight hair, those ringlets were a shock to his system.
Antoinette used to constantly bitch about what a pain in the ass it was to tame her natural curls, while Eulalie had always teased her about the wasted time she spent when her hair was gorgeous exactly the way the gods had given it to her.
Eulalie was right.
“What are you doing here?” Ketu finally blurted, and all three heads swiveled toward him, standing here with the door still open behind him. “And why are there five place settings?”
Antoinette turned to his mother. “You said he wouldn’t be here.”
His mother’s brow furrowed as she flapped a hand in his direction. “Close the door. You’re lettin’ the bugs in.”
His dad stood where he was, staring at him, not saying a word. His mouth was a thin line, although something flickered in his expressive, hazel eyes. Ketu had no idea if it was happiness, sadness, anger, or regret. Since his dad had stopped vocalized his feelings, Ketu had been unable to determine them.
Not to mention, it’d been ten years since he’d last seen the man.
Ketu obediently closed the door andMamáfinally prodded Simeon with a wooden spoon. “Say hello to your son,” she said.
Simeon grunted and then lurched to the fridge and said, “Want a beer, son?”
Hey, at least he got a “son” out of it. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”
“Antoinette? You ready for another?”
“Nah, I’m good,” she replied.
Papa popped the cap off the bottle and handed Ketu an Abita;Mamálifted a platter and, as soon as Papa turned around, shoved it into his arms. “Put these fritters on the table so the kids can start munching.” And then she nodded at Antoinette and said, “If I’d told you he was coming for dinner, you wouldn’t have stayed, would you?”
Antoinette pursed her lips and shifted her focus back to the table. As soon as Papa placed the steaming fritters in the middle, she snatched one and then yelped and let it drop from her fingers.
“They’re hot,”Mamásaid.
Ketu headed toward the sink, motioning for Antoinette to follow. “Come on, get them under the cold water so they don’t blister.”
She stepped up to the counter, but when Ketu reached for the faucet, she snapped, “I can do it.”
“Fine,” he said, pulling his hand back and glaring at her. Now that the worry over how his father would react to his presence and the shock of seeing Antoinette again were past, his anger bubbled to the surface. Leaning close to her ear and ignoring the fresh citrus smell of her shampoo, he all but hissed, “I can’t believe you’d step foot in their house, doing what you do.”
Her wide eyes were all the confirmation he needed. Despite the obvious proof he’d found on her person earlier, he’d half convinced himself it was something else. Anything else. He didn’t know what the hell else it could be, but he hadn’t wanted to believe Antoinette, of all people, would join the ranks of those assholes who destroyed people’s lives by pushing dragon’s blood on them.
Now he had no choice but to believe.
“My hands are all clean and dry,Manman.”
Ketu turned at the sound of a child’s voice and then stood there staring at— well, a child.
He didn’t have much experience with kids, but if he had to guess, he’d say this one was maybe four or five. A little younger than Gabe’s adopted daughter, Ruby. He had a thick head of curls that jutted out every which way, almost like they were challenging someone to use a comb to tame them. His eyes were large in his narrow face, and his full, smiling lips were awfully familiar.
Ketu glanced over his shoulder at Antoinette, who avoided his gaze as she hurried across the room toward the child.
