Dinner is almost over, we’re waiting for dessert, when my father speaks again.
“How is it that you two met?” I open my mouth to answer, but he silences me with a glare. “I’m asking her. Surely she can speak for herself.”
I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to punch the arrogant son of a bitch more in my entire life. Vanessa might be here playing the part of my girlfriend, but I still feel protective of her and the last thing I want is for him to cut her down.
Vanessa clears her throat, her hands clasped loosely in her lap.
“I work at a restaurant, and Teddy came in for lunch one day. That’s how we met.”
My father pounces like a lion on its prey. “A waitress, I presume?”
“Y-Yes?” She stutters out her answer like a question.
His eyes swing to me, a glass of wine clasped in his one hand. He swirls it lazily as he stares me down. “A waitress.” He clucks his tongue. “You’ll find any way to defy us, won’t you? Does she know what we’re worth? Girls like her are only looking for one thing, you know.”
“And what exactly is it you think I’m looking for?” Vanessa asks through clenched teeth.
Something flashes in his cold gray eyes. The challenge. He likes the fight in her. Sick bastard. My hands clench into fists beneath the table. I want to deck him in the face, but that small voice in the back of my mind reminds me that I have to be on my best behavior. I can’t risk anything until I have my inheritance. While it’s in his control I’m helpless.
With a calculated smirk his gaze moves from me to her. “Money, darling. It’s all people like you are after.” He swings back to me, swirling his wine in the glass. “You are using protection, aren’t you? The last thing we need is an unplanned pregnancy, though I’m sure that’s what she’d like to secure a sizeable payout.”
Vanessa sits up straight, ready for a fight. “I don’t appreciate what you’re implying, sir.” The fact she manages to tack on sir in an attempt to sound respectful nearly makes me break out into laughter. “Need I remind you, I’ve only met you tonight, and you’ve barely spoken to me, mostly just spewed ridiculous rhetoric when you don’t even know me, nor have made an attempt to know me, so excuse me if I refuse to feel offended by what you think you know about me. Because, again sir, since it seems to beg repeating; you don’t know me.”
Silence.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen my father speechless, but Vanessa eloquently put him in his place. This is the moment when I’d break out into a slow clap if I didn’t know it would land me in hot water.
My father stares her down, his face growing redder and redder by the second.
“Ah, dessert!” My mom finally speaks up as one of the staff carries in plates of crème brûlée. It’s my favorite, and I know my mom probably asked specifically for it to be prepared. I appreciate the gesture, but the last thing I want is dessert.
“Looks great, Mom,” I say as if she was the one who made it, when I’m not sure she’s ever cooked a day in her life. When I was a small boy it was our cook Maggie who taught me how to bake. “But I really think we should get going.”
“What?” she blanches, spoon poised above the caramelized sugar surface. “No, please stay. Enjoy dessert and then we can—”
“You’re staying for dessert.” My father’s firm tone allows no room for argument.
Beneath the table, Vanessa’s hand finds my knee. She rests it there lightly in a reassuring way, silently telling me we can get through this.
“Fine, we’ll stay,” I grit out, resting my left hand atop hers and wrapping my fingers into hers.
I don’t let her hand go the entire time I eat my crème brûlée. My favorite dessert tastes like cardboard as I count down the seconds until we can get the hell out of there.
After the dishes are cleared, my father stands, undoing the button on his suit jacket. “I have some things to attend to in my office. I expect to see you both here next Saturday for dinner as well. In fact, why don’t we make this a regular thing since it was so … enjoyable.”
My mouth parts, and before I can utter a word, he’s gone. My shoulders cave in on themselves.
Yes, I roped Vanessa into playing the part of my fake girlfriend for the rest of the school year. I figured on the rare occasions I had to see my parents I’d bring her along, and on campus she’d keep other girls from breathing down my neck. But the last thing I ever expected was for my father to request weekly dinners.
I look across the table at my mom, noticing her stricken expression when he leaves the room.
“Mom,” I say, drawing her attention. “We need to get back to campus.”
“Oh, yes, of course.”
She stands from the table and I hug her, holding her a little extra tight.
“It was nice meeting you, Vanessa.” She surprises me when she moves in to hug her.
Vanessa appears just as shocked but returns the gesture. “It was nice to meet you too, Mrs. McCallister.”
“I told you,” she smiles gently at her, “call me Lenora. Be careful on the road, dear.” She pats my shoulder. “Let me know you get in safe.”
She strides from the room, leaving behind the heavy floral scent of her perfume.
It’s finally just Vanessa and me again, and my shoulders sag in relief.
Taking her hand, I say, “Let’s get out of here.”
She doesn’t protest as I drag her through the maze of halls back to the side entrance we came through. No words are exchanged between us until we’re in the car and I’m speeding down the driveway.
“I’m so sorry, Van.” I shake my head.
“You’re sorry?” She glances at me with a mystified expression.
I snort, gripping the wheel so tight I know I’m cutting off the circulation in my hands.
“Of course, I’m sorry. Sorry you had to witness that. Sorry he talked to you like that. It’s unacceptable and then for him to have the audacity to demand weekly dinners. No.” I shake my head adamantly. “It’s not okay.”
She places her hand on my tense knee. “You don’t need to apologize on his behalf. Besides, I’m the one who’s truly sorry. God, Teddy, no one should grow up with a parent like that. Your mom doesn’t seem horrible, but she doesn’t stick up for you, and I could never let someone talk to my child like that.” I don’t think she even realizes it, but she rubs calming circles around my knee. “I see now why you needed my help.”
I chuckle humorlessly. “I feel bad for dragging you into this mess.” Jerking the car off the side of the road Vanessa squeals in surprise as rocks kick up around the car. I slam it in park and shove my fingers through my hair. “It’s a fucked-up situation.”
“Hey.” She tugs on my right arm, pulling it loose from where I’m trying to yank my hair out. “Hey,” she repeats, taking my face between her hands and forcing me to look at her fully. “Did I ask for Tristan and my sister to do what they did to me?”
I scoff. “Fuck no. They were sick and twisted—”
“Exactly,” she says in that same calm tone like she’s consoling a child. “You didn’t ask to be born into your family. You didn’t ask to be treated like that, and you stuck up for me when you didn’t have to. I haven’t known you long, but it’s obvious you try to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders. I’m telling you that you don’t have to. I see now why you want to secure your inheritance.” She looks down, biting her lip. “I thought at first it was a greed thing, wanting as much money as you can get your hands on, but…”