“What happened to your arms, girls?”
“We have tattoos, like Uncle Jake!”
Vivienne freezes, and I’m convinced this will be it. This is when she’ll blow up and curse me out for bringing a man like him into this family.
To my surprise, she says nothing, recomposes herself, and gives each girl a dry peck on the forehead. Father does the same, and we all migrate toward the living room.
When Mal asks what drinks she can get for them, Mother waves an unbothered hand. “Stay with us, dear, and ask the help to handle the drinks.”
“We’ve dismissed them for the day,” Gerry explains. “The nanny is the only one still on duty.”
“She can pour wine, can’t she?”
There’s a long, awkward silence, and I canfeelJake’s uneasiness at Mother’s appalling behavior. “I’ll do it,” Malory insists. “Gen and Jake came with a bottle of Bordeaux that looks delectable.”
Mother doesn’t even try to hide her discontent, but she gives a vague nod and sits down. The tension lingers as we all settle on the couches. When Mal returns with glasses for my parents, she manages to spark up a conversation.
“So, what happened to the senator’s Independence Day party in DC?”
“I thought we would shake things up this year,” Vivienne explains. “And you know, with those eco-terrorists everywhere, taking the jet for an evening is just asking for trouble.”
“Taking the chopper to avoid traffic is fine though,” Jake can’t help but point out.
My eyes go huge with shock, and I send him a panicked glance. My parents aren’t receptive to humor, especially not at their expense.
Mother ignores his apt but unwelcomed remark and continues, explaining how those political events are filled with phony guests anyhow, and she’d much rather spend the Fourth with family. That’s a first.
Jake and I are silent participants as Gerry and Mal lead the conversation, and it might be better this way. Especially if Jake can’t stop himself from stirring shit. Mal, who’s decidedly a great hostess, loops us now and then in the discussion, and the tension slowly dissipates.
Nothing bad has happened by the time we move on to the dinner table. Mother complains again about the lack of staff, arguing it was silly to let them have their day with their family. Jake is seated beside me, and I see the way he clenches his hand on the table. I mindlessly take it and lower it on my lap, giving him a gentle graze. He relaxes, molding it on my thigh and focusing on that instead.
Vivienne and Gerard Kensington aren’t the most palatable people out there, but they are the only parents I have. And really, one can get used to this level of entitlement.
It happens over half an hour after they arrived, but Father finally acknowledges Jake directly and asks, “So, what do you do for a living, Mr. Clarke?”
Jake goes over his accomplishments for the second time tonight, using terminology that sounds a lot more serious this time around. Honestly, I’m amazed that my parents aren’t having a stroke or throwing a fit. I expected anything but this somewhat indifferent reaction.
Was I wrong in thinking they would disapprove of him?
Chapter Thirty-Four
Gen
Right before we move on to the pavlova, I excuse myself from the table and head off to the bathroom. I do my business quickly, so Jake isn’t alone for too long. When I open the door, finding someone standing right behind it makes me jump back with a small gasp.
Vivienne is right there, with nothing but annoyance plastered on her botoxed features.
“Alright, you’ve had your fun. Now you can stop,” she utters, her tone ice cold.
“What do you mean?”
“Whoever that is you came with, he needs to leave without making a scene.”
“Jake? He’s my boyfriend, I told you.”
“No, he’s not,” she maintains, shaking her pristine head.
“I assure you he is.”
