Page 71 of Neat
I can’t wait to get you home,I said.
Soon,he said.
Soon,I echoed.
Then, my father asked my uncle to join him on stage, and the applause pulled both of our gazes back to the front.
It was always my father who had the charm to bedazzle a crowd. Uncle Mac, on the other hand, always looked like he was perturbed, like he was biding his time until he could be alone again. He gave an awkward smile at the applause, standing next to my father with rosy cheeks and a glass of whiskey in his hand.
“As you all know, my little brother has been instrumental in this distillery’s success since our father passed away. It was his idea to implement a tour department — an initiative that continues to pull visitors in from across the country and theworldevery single day.”
There was another roll of applause, and Chris nudged me. “That initiative has also brought a plethora of gay tourists into Buck’s,” he said, wagging his brows and taking a sip of his champagne. “Thank you, Mac.”
I chuckled, nudging him back as my father went on about all of my uncle’s accomplishments. I was tempted to zone out again, to see if I could eye-fuck Logan from across the room a while longer, when I heard my name called.
Applause started again, but I stood there frozen, confused, wondering what I had missed. Chris cleared his throat, nudging me forward before he began clapping around his champagne glass, too.
I smiled, cheeks heating as I made my way to the stage. One of the pew boys helped me up the stairs, and then I was standing next to my mother, facing practically the entire town of Stratford. I found Logan, and his comforting smile anchored me, steadying me as my father beamed at me from the podium.
“We’ve been trying for a long time to get our daughter, Mallory, to take her role at the distillery. But, as many of you know, she is a colorful bird who likes to fly her own course.”
There were a few chuckles, and I forced a smile, despite the fact that I wanted to roll my eyes at the backhanded compliment.
“When Mallory told us she was coming back home to Stratford after she wrapped up her masters degree, we were thrilled. Not only because — as many of you know — she was opening her very own art studio, but because it meant we’d have our family together again, too.” He paused, beaming at me like we were best friends. “And we are so proud of her, of all she’s accomplished.” He turned to the crowd then. “What do you guys think? Do we love the new addition ofDalí and Mal’sto Stratford?”
The applause roared then, and Logan let out a whistle between his teeth that had meactuallysmiling and blushing. I covered the smile with one hand, and Logan grinned up at me, tossing me a wink that I held for my own.
“What you might not have known was that while she was building that studio up during her evenings and weekends, she washere,working as a tour guide during the week days. And from what her uncle has told me, she has excelled at that — after a few minor setbacks, of course.”
Those who knew of thosesetbackschuckled throughout the room, and I found myself forcing a smile again, wondering when all this hoopla would be over.
“We’ve had more compliments for Mallory’s tours just in the past month than we’ve had for any other tour in the pastyear,” Dad said, and that had my eyebrows shooting into my hairline — one, because it was news to me, and two, because I found it hard to believe — especially given how many compliments came in for Logan each and every day.
And that’s when my stomach sank to the stage floor.
Because I knew, right then, that my father was up to something.
And I knew it was something I wouldn’t like.
“She’s put personal touches on her tours, telling our visitors about fond memories she had with her grandfather, about growing up around the distillery, about the history only our family knows. She’s even volunteered to help out with tasksoutsideof her normal duties — like cleaning out an entire storage closet to make way for new equipment that will help our brand excel.”
I frowned, opening my mouth to mention that I didnotdo that alone — or by choice — but my father kept talking.
“That’s why, it is my absolute pleasure to announce to all of you tonight that my brother, Mac, is retiring after the new year. And it is mydistinctpleasure to also announce that we are filling his position with another deserving member of our family — a member we weren’t sure would ever come home, one we are so happy to have back in Stratford, and one who has already made us proud in her short time working at Scooter. We know she will have a long and successful career ahead, and we can’t wait to see where she takes this instrumental part of our company. Please help me congratulate Mallory Scooter — our new Manager of Tour Guide Operations.”
Dad started the applause, Mom teared up, Mac looked bored — and I tried my best but failed epically to hide my expression of horror.
No.
No, no, no!
Mom wrapped me in a hug, and Dad made some comment about me being stunned, a laugh rolling off his lips. All the while, I searched for Logan — and it wasn’t hard to find him, because the entire distillery was watching him, too.
They were watching the entire Becker family.
Logan stood like a statue, just as stunned as me, his eyes on my father while Jordan held a firm hand on his shoulder. Their mother, though small beside them, was standing tall, head held high, a determined-level expression on her face. Their youngest brother, Michael, stood just as tall and silent on the other side of her, shaking his head, his brows furrowed over angry eyes.
I willed Logan to look at me as my father reached to pull me into a hug next. The room was a mixture of awkward applause and animated chatter. Suspicious eyes glared up at me, and I didn’t have to read lips to know the things they were saying about me weren’t flattering. I didn’t blame them. I hated myself in that moment, too.
