Page 50 of Neat
A flash of last night hit me — paint and lips, music and eyes, a sigh and a kiss and a…
“Yes,” I said, unable to hide my smile this time. My cheeks flushed as I traced the tip of my finger around the lip of the flute glass. “Things are coming together quite nicely.”
My parents likely thought I was high, for how much I’d smiled at church that morning and now at brunch with them and my brother, Malcolm. I hated spending time with them — they knew it, I knew it — but every Sunday, our family was forced together.
At least, that’s the way it was when I was in town.
I’d been able to escape the Stratford way of life when I was in college, but now that I was back — and, even though not living with them,technicallyliving under a roof that they owned — I had to play by their rules again.
Dad beamed proudly, glancing at me over his menu. “That’s my girl. I can’t wait for the grand opening. We’re going to throw the biggest party this town has seen.” He cleared his throat, looking back at his menu — even though we all knew he’d order the same thing he always did and order it for Mom, too. “As long as it’s in proper order, of course.”
That was his nice way of saying that if he was going to show face and endorse my littleproject, it would have to be something bright and shiny and perfect. God forbid anyone with the Scooter blood in their veins make even the slightest mistake. He was still trying to fight off the rumors circling around town after the mayor of Stratford was called out for owing him a hefty debt from his nights in our underground casino.
Daddy didn’t like stains on the family name, and he’d do anything to avoid them.
My brother, Malcolm, seemed bored at the table that morning. He was the spitting image of my father, only about a foot shorter and fifty pounds lighter. He was drinking champagnewithoutthe orange juice chaser, and constantly looking at his watch — no doubt counting down the minutes until he and Dad would go golfing.
When the waiter came, Dad ordered two eggs over easy, three slices of bacon, cheesy grits and one single pancake — for both him and Mom, of course. She hadn’t ordered a meal for herself in the time I’d been alive, and I wondered if she even knew what food she liked anymore or if she just ate whatever her husband decided was fit for her.
Mom was the perfect southern belle that morning, her short hair freshly dyed brunette again — like no one in this town knew she was old enough to have grays — an Easter-egg-yellow sundress covering her shoulders and knees, and a classic string of pearls around her neck. She smiled and nodded and spoke when spoken to, chiming in when it was classy and helpful but keeping her mouth shut otherwise. She’d had years of training, and I knew part of it was that she grew up in a different time than I did.
Still, I wondered what went on in her head, what she would say if somehow I could rip that filter she wore to shreds. I had been around my mother for more than eighteen years of my life, and I still had no idea who she really was.
“So, things are all set up, then?” Dad asked when the waiter was gone.
“Pretty close. The different areas of the shop are in order for the most part. I need to work on the schedule, on what classes I want to offer consistently and brainstorm the first few special workshops. I’m waiting on some additional supplies and a few furniture items, too, and I’d like to get some art and décor on the walls before I consider announcing the opening. But, I think we’re getting close.”
My heart squeezed, because I couldn’t believe I’d turned it around in such short notice, that everything I’d imagined coming to life was within my grasp.
It wouldn’t have been possible without a certain man whom I couldn’t stop thinking about.
My brother seemed to have read my mind, because he harrumphed a laugh, chugging what was left in his champagne flute before refilling it to the top. “I heard you had some help yesterday.”
I narrowed my eyes at him, but he just smirked. I loved my brother — truly, I did — but he was a kiss up, and always liked to be on Dad’s good side. Not that it was hard for him to be the favorite child, since he stayed out of trouble for the most part and did any and everything Dad asked of him.
I, on the other hand, would do the exact opposite of what my father expected on principle alone.
He’d told me one time in high school when we were in a fight thatIwas the favorite child, that I was all our parents ever talked about. I realized then that maybe part of him resented me for it. But what he didn’t understand was that they talked about me because they wanted tochangeme, to stop my embarrassment on the family.
He was their pride and joy, and I was not after that title.
“Oh?” Mom asked, polite as ever. “Was it one of your girlfriends?”
I snorted, because my entire family knew there wasn’t a single girl in Stratford whom I got along with.
Dad gave a disapproving grunt of his own. “Let me guess, it was that gay friend of yours, right? What’s his name?” He waved his hand with a wrinkled nose. “Christophor something?”
“Chris,” I corrected, rolling my eyes. “His name doesn’t morph into something more flamboyant just because he’d rather love a man than a woman. Also, there’s no need to refer to him as my gay friend. He’s my friend. No adjectives needed.”
Dad waved me off again. “I’m sure he was helpful in the décor department.”
I ground my teeth, but as much as his comments about my best friend perturbed me, I preferred that frustration to what I experienced when my brother spoke again.
“Nope. I heard LoganBeckerwas there. All. Day. Long.”
My parents both snapped their eyes to me then, Dad’s brows furrowing and Mom’s mouth popping open in a shockedOas they waited for an explanation.
“Calm down,” I said, holding up both hands like I’d just been accused of doing meth. I ignored the way my heart pounded hard inside my chest, hoping they couldn’t see right through the lie I was about to tell. “He’s good at organizing things, which I learned from ourpunishmentthis week.” I gave Dad a pointed look. “Thanks for that, by the way. I’m sure you and Uncle Mac loved thinking that one up.”
