Big Eddie’s niece Solana.
The distressed young woman whose early morning call I’d answered Solana. The same young woman I’ve thought about countless times this past week, wondering just what it was that had her so distressed, so upset.
Her eyes go wide when she sees me, recognition flashing across her face before she can censor herself.
“This is Solana,” Rachel continues, oblivious to the sudden tension cranked up to eleven. “Solana, this is Jack, the kid’s father.”
8
SOLANA
You could probably cutthe awkward tension with a knife if you tried. Rachel’s introduction is met with an uncertain silence as I look up and discover Silver at her side.
We both come to the same realization as our gazes meet and it sinks in that I’ve been hired to babysit his son.
When I responded to the listing on the babysitting job site, I hadn’t even considered it could be for Silver’s family. The name listed saidRobertsand Silver’s last name isKingman.
But I hadn’t thought about the divorce. Though I don’t know much about it, Uncle Eddie’s mentioned it in passing.
I showed up this evening expecting to have dinner with Rachel Roberts, her son, and her daughter, and their father she only vaguely mentioned.
Things were going so well. Jack was showing me a funny TikTok on his phone, and Tabby had already started dishing about some drama at her school. I was so sure this dinner was going to go well, but now…
Seconds feel like an eternity as I blink and pull from my skills as an actress. I force a smile onto my face that’s polite and gracious but also vacant.
“Hi, Mr. Kingman,” I say, my voice pitched higher than normal. “It’s so nice to meet you.”
He gives this stiff nod, like his neck might snap if he moves too fast. “Hello, Solana... err, nice to meet you too.”
Rachel jumps in, oblivious to the weird energy swirling between us. “Oh, Solana… you can call us by our first names. No need to be so formal.”
“She doesn’t even have to call me Jack if that’s too confusing,” Silver adds quickly. “She can just call me Silver. Everybody else does.”
His ex-wife’s lips purse, a tiny shift in her expression that tightens her whole face. Her irritation is practically palpable as the two move forward to take their seats.
If I had to guess why, as the daughter, niece, and sister of men in the same motorcycle club, I’d say it’s because she resents him for it. It’s clearly a sore subject for them the way it always was for me with Dad before he passed and now with Unc and Moses.
We settle in for dinner—meatloaf, mashed potatoes, green beans, and carrots. It smells amazing, way better than anything I’ve been eating lately, but my stomach’s so knotted I don’t know if I can swallow.
At first things carry on as awkward as the introduction between me and Silver, then his son Jack saves us all by launching into a breathless story about his softball team.
“We crushed the Wildcats, ten to three!” he boasts with a fleck of mashed potatoes on his chin. “Coach says if we beat the Thunderbirds next week, we’ve got a real shot at semifinals. Maybe even the championship!”
“Winning isn’t everything, sweetheart,” Rachel says, passing the green beans. “And wipe your mouth. That’s what your dinner napkin’s for.”
Silver reaches for the meatloaf, serving himself an end piece. His tone carries an edge as he says, “It might not be everything, but in sports, winning’s still important. Nothing wrong with wanting to be a champion.”
“I’d prefer if our son didn’t turn out to be a jock who prioritizes sports over everything else.”
“Being competitive isn’t a character flaw, Rachel.”
“I didn’t say it was,Jack.”
The way she emphasizes his real name feels like a small act of war. I focus on cutting my meatloaf into tiny, perfect squares, pretending I’m not sitting in the middle of their post-divorce battlefield.
Tabby breaks the tension with a snort. “Don’t worry, Mom. Jack’s not that good. He probably won’t even make the team once he gets to middle school.”
“Shut up!” Jack snaps, his face going red. “Or I’ll fart on your pillow and give you pinkeye!”
