I sighed as I came to a stop. Turning to face Alex, I leaned in closer so that we wouldn’t be overheard.
“All you need to know is that Luca is bad news. I’m trying to figure out what he’s up to.”
“Does this have anything to do with that club you’re a part of?”
Sometimes I forgot how perceptive he could be.
“I’m not a member yet.”
Alex let the subject drop, but I was sure that I would have to answer his questions eventually. For now, it was time to fight.
* * *
I tried notto fidget as I sat in the stiff wooden chair, waiting for my parents to arrive. Ocean’s Edge was an upscale seafood joint, the kind of restaurant that required a jacket. It wasn’t my kind of place, but I wasn’t going to skip out on my mom’s birthday dinner.
Sitting on the table at my elbow was a pretty little box covered in blue wrapping paper and a white bow made of ribbon. My parents didn’t hurt for money, so I never knew what to buy her as a gift. She’d just tell me not to bother if I asked.
My eyes landed on my father’s rigid form at the hostess stand. He was always easy to spot, being so tall. And a man like Harold Shelton wasn’t going to slouch self-consciously either. Nope, he walked with his head high and shoulders back, like the war hero that he was.
My mom was at his side, her blonde hair pulled back in a French twist. She smiled when she saw me waiting at the table. I stood to greet her, pulling her thin body into a hug while she kissed my cheek. She’d always been a small woman, seemingly fragile. I suspected that my father saw her the same way, and she had him wrapped around her little finger.
“Happy birthday, Mom,” I said.
“I’m so glad you could make it,” she said, stepping back, but keeping a hold of my hands. She looked me over with a small grin. “And you look so handsome.”
“Here you go, Molly,” my dad said, pulling out a chair for her.
Silence settled over the three of us as we all picked up our menus. I tugged at the knot of the tie around my neck, trying to loosen it a bit. My father’s sharp eyes caught the movement, and I could see the judgment there, but I didn’t care. I felt like I was suffocating with it on. How did some men wear them every day?
The waitress came to take our orders before scurrying away. The place was busy tonight and looked to be understaffed. My mom turned to me.
“Tell me how you’re doing. It’s been too long since we saw you.”
“I’ve started a new job.”
“What happened to the old one?” my dad interrupted.
“It didn’t work out,” I tried to be vague.
“Because?”
I gritted my teeth. Why did he always have to push it with me?
“Let’s just say that the boss and I had some fundamental differences.”
“Translation, you pissed him off and got sacked.”
“Harold,” my mom placed a hand on his arm with a frown on her face. This always happened, no matter the occasion. We ended up bickering, and she was stuck in the middle.
“Fine,” he grumbled, placing his larger hand on top of hers. “Tell us about the new job.”
“I’m a tattoo artist at a little shop in La Playa.”
He scoffed.
“You’ve always been so artistic. That’s a great fit for you,” my mom said, but I could see the concern in her eyes. “Do you make enough money there? Can we help you in any way?”
The look on my dad’s face told me that he’d rather chew his own arm off than give me money.
