Page 89 of Moonshine Kiss
“Cass, can you get that?” Mom called.
Reluctantly, I headed to the front door, masking my disappointment with a polite expression. Until I realized who was on the other side.
“What in the hell are you doing here?” I hissed.
Bowie peered at me over an ostentatious bouquet of dahlias—my mother’s favorite. “I was invited,” he said, stepping across the threshold and dropping a kiss on my cheek as if it were the most normal thing in the word.
I stood there staring at the empty doorway wondering what I’d done in a past life that had been so terrible.
“Bowie!” My mom squealed. “Oh, you shouldn’t have.”
“Good to see you, son,” Dad said, poking his head in from the back deck.
“Why is he here?” June asked, coming up behind me with a stack of cloth napkins.
“Good question.”
* * *
Bowie was hereto ruin my life. With my parents’ blessing.
“I think you’re so sweet to give poor Johnny Johnson the responsibility,” my traitor mother was cooing. “I mean, that boy just can’t catch a break in life.”
I pushed a potato around my plate and pretended not to listen.
“Cassidy, don’t you think Bowie does a great job at the school?” Mom prodded.
I stabbed the potato with my fork. “Yeah. Great.”
“How’s the baseball team shapin’ up for next season?” my dad asked him.
Bowie swallowed his bite of pot roast. “Real good. Should see the semi-finals,” he predicted. “Mrs. Tucker, this roast is delicious.”
I made a gagging noise. I couldn’t help it. My parents had set me up. Now, I had to add my mother to the Pissed Off At list.Was it too much to ask for people to stop pissing me off all the time?
Bowie reached over and stroked the base of my neck. I dropped my fork with a clatter at his touch.
“Can I go watchSportsCenter?” June asked, bored and annoyed with the social requirements of the evening.
“No,” Mom the Traitor said firmly. “Don’t you want to join in the conversation?”
June stuck her chin out like she was going to throw a hissy fit and then relented. My sister never threw hissy fits. “Fine. Bowie, you had an impressive batting average in high school and you excelled at pitching.” She sounded like a robot trying to give a compliment.I was going to give that robot a talking-to about sisterly loyalty.
“Thanks, Juney,” Bowie said, hiding his smile.
“Now, can I go watch TV?” June asked.
“Bowie, would you like another beer?” my dad asked, getting up from the table. My father who damn well knew what Connelly was threatening me with had willingly brought this man to my table. Okay, his table. But I was sitting at it.
“No, sir. One’s good enough for me,” Bowie said.
“One’s good enough for me,” I mimicked under my breath. He was always such a damn Boy Scout.
“What’s that, Cass?” Bowie asked sweetly.
“Can I talk to you outside?” I snapped.
“Me?” June asked. “It’s cold. And I’d rather watch TV.”
