“There’s no need for that, Gary,” Richard chimes in. I instantly shift my gaze to Garrett’s face, his expression turning murderous and I fight to hide my smirk. This should be interesting.
“Call my Gary again,” Garrett twists to glare at him, “and I will yank your small intestine out of your mouth, rip your large intestine out of your ass and use you as a human skipping rope.” A full bellied laugh leaves my throat, Richard’s cool façade shattering with a look of horror. Avery fist bumps Garrett across the table as a line of waiters enter the room. A bowl is placed in front of me as I wipe the tears from my eyes, the mix of sweet and salty scents drifting around the room. Three scallops sit in the middle of celeriac soup, my mouth already drooling.
“Oh, I’m actually vegan.” Blondie at the far end lifts her plate and hands it back to the waiter, muttering her apologises as if it’s her fault. I can guarantee my mom forgot to inform the kitchen of her guest’s dietary needs, yet she still has an eyebrow cocked condescendingly and a scowl ready for the poor waiter.
“Oh shit, you poor thing!” Garrett jerks up from hovering over his plate, speaking with his mouth full. “Do you have an epi-pen, should we have a doctor on stand-by?” The whole scallop between his teeth bursts, juice seeping down his chin while he continues to stare at her with genuine concern. Blondie flicks her mortified eyes to my mom who tells her to pretend he’s not in the room. That’s fine by me, pretend he’s not here while I lean over and drag the pad of my tongue over the salty juice from his chin to his lips. Garrett swallows loudly, his tongue sticking out to tangle with mine.
“Oh, for all of our sakes Axel, stop that!I’m fully aware of what you’re doing and that it is all for my benefit. Well, it won’t work!” Cutlery clashing loudly against her bowl mixes with her exasperated sigh. I keep my eyes on Garrett’s hazel ones, our breaths mingling as I reply.
“What am I trying to do, Mom?”
“The same as always. Acting out, showing off. Whatever it takes to anger me.” I turn my head to see her shoot out of her seat and Richard places a hand on her arm, trying to calm her with quiet words. Moron.
“Why on earth would I give a shit what you think? You broke me in so many unfixable ways, used me for your personal gain no matter the cost to my sanity. I’m rebuilding my life; you’re just pissed your cash mule has left you far behind.” Our eyes remain locked in a stare down to the death until Richard somehow manages to coax her back into her seat. Dabbing the corners of her mouth with her napkin, she throws it into her empty bowl and leans back on a sigh.
“You’re always were such a spoilt shit; do you know that?”
“Spoilt? Spoilt?! Ha! How do you figure that one in that fucked up head of yours?”
“You got all of your father’s money.” The flare to her nostrils makes me grin, my eyes floating upwards in fake thought. When my father died, he left her absolutely nothing like she deserved. I, on the other hand, received a sizeable trust fund, prepaid college fees and a yearly allowance.
“Oh yeah you’re right. And guess what – I gave it all away.” Her face turns to a shade of beetroot, the crazed look in her eyes reminding of the night she’d found me freshly shaven and finally free. If I had thought writing those cheques to abused children’s charities had helped to alleviate some of my grief, it’s nothing compared to how watching my mother’s internal seizure is healing old wounds to my battered soul.
The waiters return at that moment with our main courses balanced on the palm of their right hands, this dinner party suddenly much more pleasant from my perspective. Minuscule versions of duck confit are placed in front of each of us, my mom too busy twitching and seething to notice. Blondie receives a plate of sliced tomato with some diced onion sprinkled on top and licks her bottom lip excitedly. She can add ‘easily pleased’ on her résumé.
Spearing a teeny tiny carrot on my fork, I notice Garrett glaring at his food it as if it will magically transform into a pizza for him. On his right, Huxley fails to fight a yawn behind his hand, and I feel his pain. Guilt swamps me that my brothers and Avery fell the need to stay in my childhood home with me, but at the same time I can’t let them leave. I won’t survive staying here on my own, if boredom doesn’t kill me first, my nightmares sure will. Dax is also pushing his food around his plate, every so often sneaking a glance over to Avery who is obviously ignoring him. I know I need to do something to break the uncomfortable silence but don’t know what. On my third mouthful of delicious yet microscopic dinner, an idea pops into my mind and I fight to hold back a grin. Knocking Garrett’s leg under the table to grab his attention, I bob my eyebrows mischievously for him to play along.
“Never have I ever said the wrong name during sex,” I begin, leaning over to lift Garrett’s champagne glass to his lips. He chuckles, knowing full well he called me Alex once by a slip of the tongue but that shit counts. In my peripheral vision, I see Avery take a sip from her glass too, much to Dax’s shock.
“Never have I ever received a lap dance,” Avery plays along with a grin. All four of us guys sip from our glasses remembering Huxley’s birthday
