Page 50 of Hush Money
“Don’t be a dick,” he says.
“Yeah. It’s not his fault. None of this is,” I growl.
Brooks holds his hands up.
“Chill out, dudes,” he says. “Lighten up.”
I whip around to him.
“Maybe if you ever took anything fucking seriously, you would realize what the fuck is going on here,” I quip. His eyes grow wide.
“Easy,” Julian warns under his breath. “Now is not the time. Smiles on. Show time.”
We walk into the main hall, and I can’t help but notice what feels like every single head turning in our direction as we go. The event photographer snaps photos of us, and I feel Evie sliding behind me. I look down at her, but she just smiles back up at me. I tighten my hold on her hand. We get to the table as the servers are finishing setting up the additional seat. I know that was probably a big fucking deal. These things are planned down to the last fucking morsel of food. The last ice cube. Gift baskets for every guest in attendance. So it tickles me a bit to disrupt it.
Julian takes the chair next to the head where my father and Angelina will sit. I can’t stand Angelina, but if anyone can’t stand her even more, it’s Brooks. So I decide to be a good big brother and take the seat next to her, pulling out Evie’s chair before I sit.Brooks sits on the other side of her, his date on the other side of him.
After a few more agonizing moments, Cato and Angelina approach the table.
“My boys,” he says, clapping his hands together. We all stand, and he hugs us one by one, Angelina following suit, until he gets to Evie, and I feel my pulse quicken.
“My, my, my,” he whispers, staring down at her. “Genevieve Dawson? Is that you?”
She swallows and nods.
“Hi, Mr. Everett,” she says. She sticks a hand out to shake his, but instead, he takes it softly, bringing it to his lips, his eyes locked on hers. I fight every urge in my body to yank her from his grasp.
“To what do we owe the pleasure of seeing you again after all these years?” he asks ever so smoothly. My heart is pounding in my chest. Every inner thought is yelling at me, screaming for me to take her and run. But I stand still.
“Keaton,” she says matter-of-factly, looking up at me with a smile that could fucking bring me to my knees. I know he’s looking for more, but she doesn’t offer it. She just stares up at me, smiling, letting me know she’s got this. Cato’s eyes bounce back and forth between us, but he decides against pressing the matter at his birthday party. Instead, he invites us all to sit just as the wait staff begins bringing out the first course.
Dinner goes off fairly easily. A video montage plays that takes up a good chunk of it, filled with photos that make Cato look like the most loving father and greatest philanthropist in the world. I can’t help but notice how no photos appear that show my mom or Brooks’s, despite them giving Cato the heirs to his kingdom.
After the montage, video messages from his celebrity friends that couldn’t be in attendance play, and I throw back another sip of my beer.
As the final course is taken away, I let out a breath, knowing that this will all be over soon—until my father claps his hands together.
“Okay, boys, one more favor,” he says. “Portrait time.”
My eyes flick to Julian then to Brooks.
“Come again?” Julian asks.
“We haven’t had a family portrait taken in years. Not since Angelina and I got married.” Angelina beams next to him, and I roll my eyes. Evie kicks me under the table. “As a birthday present to me, I’d like to get one taken tonight, while everyone is so dressed up.”
I look at my brother, waiting for his lead. He clears his throat then nods.
“Sure, Cato. It’s your day,” he says. We all stand slowly, and I make eyes at Evie. She just nods and smiles.
“I’ll be right here,” she says.
As we follow Cato and Angelina out of the main hall and down toward the fireplace, Cato turns to me.
“You know what would be the best birthday gift ever?” he asks me. I look at him. “If you would come back to New York. I have some projects I think you would?—”
“You’re getting your portrait, Dad,” I say coldly. “Let’s not push it.”
Julian glares at me, and I clear my throat as the photographer directs us all where to stand.
