Chapter Six
Walking into the restaurant I avoided the main dining room and headed straight to the restroom. I changed in my car on the way from Baileys to The Freighthouse, shimmying out of my black dress pants and into a knee length, flowing pale pink skirt. I took the same tactic with the top, although I did pull behind a local bookstore before ripping off my polo and exchanging it for a creamy off-white cashmere sweater. I finished the look with my grandmother’s pearls, demure but expensive flats, and enough hand sanitizer and scented lotion to drown out the smell of French fry grease and melted cheese.
Even though my outfit was barely a passing grade to my parents and I was early, they were already waiting in the middle of the dining room. I needed a few more minutes to collect myself before I faced them. Plus I wanted to check the status of my Facebook conversations, which entailed me posing as Fin in an attempt to secure some booty for later tonight, or tomorrow night or Friday morning real quick before I/he had class.
I felt evil.
And I was starting to like evil.
In the bathroom I rechecked my makeup stalling for time and then pulled out my phone, unable to bear the anticipation any longer. A sinister smile lifted my lips when I realized all three fan club ladies had responded positively to “Fin’s” proposal. Albeit they were clearly shocked with his enthusiasm and willingness to comply, which kind of niggled against the inside of my chest. With the constant bombardment of enticing offers, I assumed he would be a regular yes-man to these never-say-no-women. But apparently…. he wasn’t. At least not with this particular crop of propositions.
At the same time I felt this out of place pride, I felt a careening spiral of guilt too. Was I being mean to these girls by setting them up with Fin when he could as easily turn on them as he did me the first time I met him? Or was it even possible, I felt guilty for messing with him?
Nope, that could not be it.
Look at how he was controlling my life!
This was merely payback.
Miniscule, but well-deserved payback.
Besides, he was after all a man. Surely, a man with needs.Gack. Shudder. Eye-roll. He would probably start thanking me. Maybe even let me get out of this whole debt completely.
By becoming his pimp of sorts? See, I knew it. This whole thing was about prostitution!
Besides, I was practically a stranger to him. Why in the world was he trustingmewith his Facebook account? Weren’t these things supposed to be sacred or something?
Ok, enough obsessing over Fin. Seriously,enough.
I washed my hands for good measure and then found my way back to the dining room and large table where the rest of my family waited. The Freighthouse boasted the best steak in La Crosse, and rightfully so. But the décor left a little something to be desired. Everything was wood-paneled. Like,everything. The walls, the extensive bar, the floor, the ceiling, even the tables and chairs were in the same monotone rich wood color. It was a lot to take in.
We ate here whenever my parents came to visit us. They were satisfied with the food, and my brothers could put away semi-trucks full of all you can eat red meat, so they were also happy to eat here.Ifelt like this was what the inside of a crate felt like. It was not natural to be surrounded by this much…. paneling.
“Eleanor!” my mother cried, teary-eyed and emotional. She pulled me to her as soon as I was in grabbing-distance.
“Hi, Mom,” I said into her shoulder. My mother was tall for a woman, but not freakishly so. She had my light-brown colored hair that she kept short, refined and contained. Mine was admittedly wilder, and it had been at least a year since I dealt with any upkeep. Her eyes were hazel, while mine were my father’s blue. She was athletically built but had somehow grown more elegant with each year. While I was tiny and clumsy and…. me. She was a force of nature, head of every committee, staple of the community, model citizen. I invited criminals to live with me and then paid off the debt they originally stole from me.
“You’re gorgeous as ever,” she whispered into my hair. Even while I knew she really meant I was sloppy, unkempt and too thin.
“Thanks,” I mumbled and then wiggled out of her hug. I went to my dad next, who had his arms already opened and ready. “Hi, Daddy.”
“Come here, kiddo,” he said affectionately. He squeezed me extra tight and then literally deposited me into Lennox’s arms.
“Els, you’re late,” Lennox’s huge, muscly arms clutched me in a bear hug and instead of standing up for myself all I could do was grunt out some kind of concession as all the air left my lungs. “Miss me?”
“So much,” I wheezed sarcastically when he set me down again.
“I brought you something,” he smirked. From behind his back he pulled out a stylish bottle of some kind of alcohol. I had no chance of being able to read the label as it was in another language, and I had almost no experience with alcohol, but from the shape of the bottle and the wicked gleam in Lennox’s eyes it didn’t take a genius to figure out.
“What is it?” I laughed, knowing I would probably never drink it. He held it out to me and I reached for it, admiring the elegant characters and raised detailing on the label. I carried it over to my seat, in between Beckett and Grayson, and sat down while still trying to make out the label.
“Sake,” he answered. “It’s a Japanese rice wine; you’re going to love it.”
“Lennox!” my mother gasped. “She’s not even old enough for that yet.”
“Soon though. Right, Els?” Grayson asked in his gruff voice. He was so burly. Maybe not burly, but he radiated testosterone and manliness. If my brothers were their own mob, he was the muscle. He put a meaty hand around the back of my chair, tapping his fingers so that it felt like my entire body was vibrating. I shot him a nasty look but he just smirked in return, knowing he was being obnoxious.
“One month,” I squeaked, kind of embarrassed that my brothers were counting down the days until I could be legally intoxicated.
