Page 62 of The Late Hit
She stops just inside the kitchen, spinning to look up at me.
“Quinton, find yourself a woman with good taste, who isn’t a ho who’s going to bed hop. She needs to be high-class and look good on your arm.”
Fighting hard not to roll my eyes, I just agree with her.
“Okay, Mom. Thanks for the advice.”
Reaching up, she places her hand on my cheek. It used to be comforting, but now it’s just demeaning.
“Of course, sweetie, that’s what I’m here for. I’m here to make sure you find yourself a good, strong woman who won’t embarrass you. Not like that friend of yours.” She mumbles that last part, but I heard it. Knowing she’s talking about Brynn makes my skin crawl. She never goes without that little dig. “Speaking of that friend, we need to talk about Chicago.”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I state, sliding around my mom and heading toward the refrigerator.
I’m going to need alcohol to get through tonight. Opening the fridge, I look inside for anything. There’s a bottle of Shiner in the back, which I grab and immediately pop the top.
Bringing the bottle to my lips, I take a very long pull of beer, draining half of it as I let the cold lager slide down my throat. It’s at that moment my father walks in.
“Son,” he greets. “Nice to see you’re serious about your diet.”
And the digs keep coming.
Pulling the beer from my lips, I use the back of my hand and wipe away any remaining liquid.
“Dad,” I greet in return, ignoring the dig on my diet.
“Boys, let’s go to the table. Cressida will serve us once we are all seated. Xavier should be here any moment.” Mom leads the way to the dining room, and we all take our seats around the six-person table.
Dad and Mom sit at either end of the table. I sit in the seat to the left of my father. The seat to the right of my dad is reserved for my older brother. And the seat to the left of my mom is for Xavier. The seat directly beside me is always empty.
Just as we sit down, the front door flies open and Xavier waltzes in. He looks like a wreck, like something is off. But I don’t have the energy to dwell on it. It’s not my problem.
“There’s my baby,” Mom exclaims, standing from her seat and rushing to the door to hug Xavier.
Her baby is right. She’s always babied him, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. The two of them have a long, drawn-out welcome. My dad and I sit at the table waiting for them to join us. The sooner we get this dinner started, the sooner we can get it over with.
“How’s football going, Q?” Dad asks.
“It’s goin’ good. Looking forward to the game this week. Coach has been working us hard, just hoping the O-line is prepared.”
“If they do their job, you should have a really good run game. Coach better be ready to put the ball in your hands.” Our conversation is interrupted as Mom and Xavier join. “Son,” Dad greets Xav, not bothering to get up.
“Cressida, we are ready,” Mom says loudly from the dining room, calling for our maid, because we areapparentlytoo good to serve ourselves.
My mood is just bitter. I’m pissed I’m here. I’m pissed this doesn’t feel like home, and I’m pissed my parents don’t feel like parents anymore. I’m pissed Xavier is acting strange like he’s on something. And I’m pissed Brynn doesn’t want me with her.
That’s where my mind keeps going all dinner long. Cressida serves us roasted chicken with root vegetables and mashed potatoes. It’s healthy and delicious. Dinner is quiet while we all eat. Too busy enjoying the food. Glancing around the table, I notice that everyone is still engrossed in their food. Taking the opportunity, I slide my phone out of my jeans pocket and pull up Brynn’s message thread.
I watch the message change todelivered, but it doesn’t get read right away.
“Really? Quinton, you can’t be present for one meal,” Mom says, disappointment coating her tone.
“Sorry, just checking on a friend.”
Xavier takes the moment to chime in. “Brynn?” he asks with a smirk.
He knows this is a sore subject.
“Yes. Today is a rough day for her.”
