I hope to God he shaves that shit off for the wedding.
Kieran had Mom’s dark eyes and permanently sun-kissed skin, but besides that, he was all Dad in the face, down to the wire-rimmed bifocals that he swore made him look like a dapper intellectual. He was still my loser baby brother to me and always would be.
He set me on my feet after nearly severing my spine. “Geez. Look what the cat dragged in. How long has it been since anyone heard from her, Kier?” Casey asked.
Kieran squinted before answering, “About eight months, I think.”
“You’re so fucked,” Casey reminded me with a dark laugh.
Don’t I know it.
The last voicemail I received from Dad made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. To say he was upset by my lack of communication and visits was an understatement. He promised the next time I was in town that we’d have a long overdue heart-to-heart.
I imagine it won’t go much differently than the other talks—a lot of sighing, headshaking, and nagging.
“You’re an asshole, Ki. Mom and Dad have been worried sick about you. How hard is it to answer the fucking phone?” Casey chastised.
“Brrrrring, Brrrrring,” Kieran mocked.
“Hello?” Casey answered with his pinky finger to his mouth to mimic the speaker and his thumb to his ear.
“Kiyah, it’s a random loved one. How are you?” Kieran asked.
“Oh, you know. Just being the black sheep of the family—unemployed, sex, drugs, and rock and roll,” Casey said, poorly mimicking my voice.
Kieran nodded appreciatively. “That’s so lovely to hear, Kiyah. We’re so glad that the private school and college degree we paid an arm and a leg for went to good use,” Kieran proclaimed cheerfully.
“Yeah, uh-huh. Listen, I blew through that ten grand you sent last week. Send more money. Love you, byyyyye.” Casey hung up his imaginary phone, and I was not impressed. “See. It’s as easy as that.”
Casey definitely took after his birth mother, Eliza. I remembered her from the time she came to the dojo and fucked up Dad’s SUV with a baseball bat. Once, I’d come across an old photo album and found pictures of the Baker family before Mom and I arrived. Casey shared that same condescending smirk, straight nose, and brunette hair. He inherited Dad’s height, but that evil woman left her mark on him.
“I don’t do drugs,” I interjected.
“Don’t you love how she didn’t deny anything else?” Casey commented.
“And I work…occasionally,” I mumbled.
“I didn’t know professional groupie was a job.”
“That was one time,” I hissed.
You kick around with a rock band for a few months, and the lead singer may have allegedly written a song about you, and some folks just can’t let it go.
I worked sporadically when my allowance ran out, and I didn’t feel like hearing a lecture. I’d bartended in some shit-hole bars a handful of times, worked in several mom-and-pop garages, and waited tables at the greasiest of spoons until I saved up enough money to leave that town and my problems behind for the next one.
“Well, if it isn’t the prodigal daughter.” Uncle Ant beamed as he shoved my brothers aside with his cane to greet me. “Damn, Ki. I almost forgot what you looked like. Bring her in,” he said, opening his arms for a hug. We hugged, and I nearly sighed. Uncle Ant gave thebesthugs. “I love you like you’re my own, Ki, but your Uncle Ant can’t save you this time. Your dad is none too pleased with you. I’d tread carefully this week.”
“Message received,” I mumbled, pulling away from him.
The trio parted like the Red Sea when Dad finally acknowledged me with his presence. I squirmed under his heated gaze and fiddled with the diamond “R” pendant around my neck—something I did when I was anxious.
Jonathan Baker was a kind, generous man. Back in the day, some would even describe him as soft, but nothing about the glowering man before me could be described as soft, mushy, or subdued. He wasn’t Granddad hard, but he was still tough as nails.
He breezed past me and gestured with two fingers over his shoulder for me to follow him.
Yeah, I’m super fucked, I thought, following him out of the conference room. I pulled a face when I passed the DV Barbies, who were deeply kissing like no one was watching.
See. Prime example of why I stay out of their business.
