“Finance?”
Deborah nodded. “That’s right, Mr. Townsend. I studied mathematics at Stanford.”
“Is that where you two originally met?” my mother asked, looking between the two of us.
“Yes, Mother. We were in the same class.”
“Though our first introduction was a bit unorthodox,” Deborah joked, glancing in my direction.
It helped to lighten my own mood, and I reached over and pressed a kiss to her cheek and whispered, “I’ve more than made up for that little indiscretion.” If we hadn’t been sitting around a dinner table with my parents, I would’ve done a hell of a lot more than whisper in her ear.
Deborah gave me a sly grin.
My mother went on to say something about Glamour Cosmetics, and she and Deborah broke off into a conversation. I mostly remained silent, letting the women talk, but I kept an eye on my father. His face read displeasure, which wasn’t uncommon at all. However, the way his eyes kept drifting to Deborah’s clasped hand in mine, spoke to how he really felt about our union.
“Sorry I’m late.”
Four heads peered up from the table where we’d been eating our meal to find my brother, Jason, staring down at us, a stupid smirk covering his face.
I frowned as the odor from whatever cheap alcohol he’d gotten his hands on practically punched me in the nose. And while that was bad enough, it was the sight of the woman in a leather jacket, tight, ripped jeans, and a half shirt who he had his arm wrapped around that really pissed me off.
“Jason.” My father’s voice was clipped as he glared at my younger brother and the woman he’d shown up with.
Jason’s smirk widened. “Oh, thank you,” he said to the hostess, who’d brought over two extra chairs for he and his date. He made a big show of making space for himself and the woman at the table. “Here, Lydia. This is Lydia, by the way,” he introduced, glancing around.
“Hey,” she responded waving at everyone at the table.
My father huffed. “You’re nearly an hour late and you make this spectacle?” my father stated in a hushed tone across the table toward my brother.
“What? I apologized. You want me to do so again? Fine. I’m sorry, big brother, for arriving late to your dinner to introduce us to your …” He paused when he finally looked at Deborah. His eyes narrowed. “You look familiar. I’m Jason—”
“Don’t fucking touch her,” I growled as he reached his arm out for her to shake.
“Robert—” Deborah began, but I shook my head.
“No. We have no idea where his hands have been.” I glanced at the woman next to him whose eyes were halfway closed. “Keep your hands to yourself.”
“We’re all just happy you could finally make it, Jason,” my mother spoke up, trying to smooth things over. “Jason’s been doing a lot of traveling,” she said to Deborah, likely because she believed Deborah was the only one who didn’t know the truth.
For her part, Deborah smiled and nodded.
What my mother was unaware of was the fact that I’d already told Deborah that Jason had been in yet another rehab facility for the past three months. He’d barely gotten out two weeks ago and here he was, drunk again.
“I think we need to order a drink to celebrate Robert’s relationship.”
“Put your fucking hand down,” I ordered to Jason as he lifted his hand to call over a waiter. “You’ve obviously been drinking already. And I don’t give a damn what you do once you leave here, but while you’re at this table you will not be drinking anything except water.”
Jason’s dark eyes, which were similar to my own, enlarged.
“Maybe you’re the one who needs a drink. You’re starting to remind me of someone else I know.” He eyes glided from me to our father, obviously letting it be known who he was referring to.
“Robert,” Deborah stated in a hushed tone, pulling me by the arm as I halfway stood up to reach my brother to throttle him.
He knew, more than anything, what comparison to our father did to me. I may be a lot of things, but Robert Townsend Sr. I was not.
My father kept mostly silent. Jason was just twenty-five years old, but my father had already given up on him. Sure, he’d fund his lifestyle—which included his growing number of stints in and out of rehab facilities—but that was as far as it went. In my opinion, much of Jason’s defiance was an obvious attempt to get some type of reaction from our father. I would’ve told him it wasn’t worth it, nor should he even bother, if I thought he’d actually listen to me. But what Jason, myself, and our father all had in common was our stubbornness.
It was a Townsend male trait.
