Page 44 of Reptile Dysfunction
Something in Dad’s posture relaxes slightly. “Yes, actually. Highest attendance in years.”
“Sebastian’s good with kids. Always has been.”
“And you teach swimming?” Mom wheels toward the dining room, gesturing for us to follow. “Though I heard there was a recent… incident with Pilates?”
“Mom!”
“What? Dorothy tells me everything.” She winks at Thad. “The Silver Swimmers are quite invested in your recovery.”
“Of course they are.” Thad’s voice holds resigned amusement. “They’re probably taking bets on when I’ll be back in class.”
“Next week,” I say firmly. “After proper medical clearance.”
The dining room table is meticulously set—fine china, crystal glasses, and what appears to be every serving dish we own. Mom’s clearly gone all out.
“I wasn’t sure about dietary preferences,” she admits as we sit. “So I had Maria make several options.”
“That’s very thoughtful, but I’m not—” Thad starts.
The doorbell interrupts.
“I’ll get it!” our housekeeper Maria calls, but she’s too late.
Bradley Harrington III stands in the dining room doorway, wearing his most expensive suit and most insincere smile.
“Hope I’m not interrupting,” he says, though clearly that’s exactly his intent. “Charles mentioned dinner, and well, old habits.” He shrugs in the least genuine gesture of nonchalance I’ve ever witnessed.
My father has the grace to look uncomfortable. “Bradley, I don’t think—”
“Nonsense! Looks like there’s plenty of food.” Bradley moves to the empty chair beside me, then freezes.
Sterling, most dignified in his navy bowtie, has bowed up in an about-to-strike position, and his mouth is open in an aggressive hiss.
“I believe,” Thad says mildly, “that seat is taken.”
Every one of his snakes now adopts Sterling’s posture, and I must say, it just might be more intimidating than Thad’s invisible enforcer powers.
“And look.” Mom’s eyes sparkle with barely contained laughter. “The table is only set for four. Bradley, perhaps another time?”
“But—”
“Another time,” Dad says firmly, and something in his tone suggests he’s finally choosing sides. “Maria, please show Mr. Harrington out.”
After Bradley leaves with no lack of eye daggers, there’s a moment of silence. Dad slowly shakes his head, a bemused expression crossing his face. Then Mom bursts out laughing.
“Oh, that was brilliant! Their adorable bowties didn’t even slip! Did you teach them that trick specifically for dinner parties?”
“Actually,” Thad admits, his own lips twitching, “they improvised. They’re quite… protective of the woman I’m so fond of.”
Dad clears his throat. “Yes, well. Perhaps we should discuss this security consulting business of yours? The committee is quite interested in having professional protection during the Revelation Day events.”
The snakes straighten attentively.
“Of course,” Thad agrees. “That would be, um, great.”
As dinner progresses, something shifts. Dad asks genuine questions about enforcer history. He even expresses interest in how my blog has grown, with its readership tripling each week and monster communities from neighboring towns reaching out with their stories.
“Your writing is making an impact,” Dad admits, surprising me. “People are responding to authentic voices. That’s something even I can appreciate, despite my initial concerns.”
