“Hey, I accused your mother of stealing that!” he says with a fake gasp, and I stick my tongue out, not sorry at all.
“It’s comfy,” is all I say, and mom chimes in, “She has a point, darling, your shirts are comfortable, though if our daughter here would just, you know, date…”
I point at Mom and threaten, “Don’t even go there!”
Dad coughs to hold in his laughter while Mom shrugs and innocently reminds me, “The last guy you went out with was Drake, Drew.”
I roll my eyes as I grab my bag and reply, “Yeah, and look how that ended, Mom, with my sister…”
The same sister, she forces me to have dinner together twice a week with Drake present. It doesn’t really make sense as to why she would put me through that. Hence, why I still have trust issues.
Mom scrunches her nose up and mutters, “Okay, so Drake was not a good example, especially when I walked in on him, your sister, and the pastor's son, Britton, this morning in some kind of three-way. I will have to bleach my eyes out later, but in my defense, he is the only example.”
“I really didn’t need that visual, Mom,” I gag while Dad looks white, Mom just sighs, “Neither did I, and I had to walk in on it. I’ve told your sister she needs to get a job and find a place within two months because, honestly, I feel scarred.”
I snort a laugh knowing that will never happen as I turn off the lights and ask, “Is she joining us for dinner?” Instead of eventrying to question my sister or mom’s decisions regarding her, I think I stopped years ago.
She’s derailed a lot over the years, mainly because Mom has kind of gained a backbone with her, but fifteen years of ensuring she got everything she wanted is a long time to break a cycle. I mean, she and Drake, despite the fact that he was told he’d go to prison if he went near Elizabeth, continued to break his bail.
He ended up spending a year in prison and was placed on the sex offenders list, losing any chance at going pro with the ballet community. As soon as he was released, him and my sister went straight back to where they left off but I don’t think Elizabeth wants him for him. She wants him to piss off Mom and Dad and at first it did, but now, they know she’s going to do what she wants to do. She’s twenty-one, has no job, no college prospects, no aspirations.
She solely wanted to live off our parents, trying to use the fact she nearly died as a baby as the excuse. She feels like she deserves an easy life, and it seems Mom has finally had enough, or sometimes I think she has.
“Unfortunately,” Dad mutters, and Mom slaps the back of his head as we walk outside my studio, and I chuckle.
“I take it she’s bringing Drake?” I confirm, and Mom winces, causing me to tense because yet again, she’s putting Elizabeth first knowing how uncomfortable it makes me to have him there.
Several times he’s propositioned me despite still sleeping with my sister, and the more he’s around, the more uneasy I feel. Unfortunately for me, not only does he still want me back, but he now blames me for losing the life he thought he should have had before he acted like a jackass when I told him we were better off as friends.
“Yep,” Mom replies curtly, “and if he so much as even looks your way, I am going to skin him alive!”
I raise a brow at Dad, who shakes his head as he looks at Mom with what I really hope is not lust, and I quickly look away before I’m traumatized.
Okay then…
“How come you two have decided to meet me here anyway? I thought we were meeting at Dante’s?” I quickly change the subject, and Dad chuckles under his breath, making my back tense.
Oh, please don’t tell me she…
“There’s this boy at church group,” Mom says sweetly, and I groan as Dad laughs his butt off.
Jackass.
“No, Mom,” I instantly state as I lock the studio door.
“Oh, come on, Drew, what is the harm in meeting him? You never know your sister might dump Drake and want Kenneth instead because he’s there for you,” Mom admits, and I scrunch my nose up in distaste.
Okay, I don’t know if she’s done it so I could really fall for the guy or if she’s using me to set my sister up.
Well, that is a nasty feeling to have, thanks Mom.
I shake my head. “Who names their son Kenneth?” I ask, trying to shake the sudden hurt, and dad loses it again. Mom scolds him, though I don’t miss the twitching of her lips.
“He could gain your interest,” Mom tries again and I mutter, “Not with the name Kenneth,” making her scowl again just as a rumble echoes and I look towards the end of the street to see a guy with a bandana covering his mouth, shades on, riding a black Harley Davidson our way and my whole body tingles, like fireworks are setting me off.
What on earth…
My eyes trail the biker the closer he gets, the spider on the tank of his bike with fire burning around it plain as day, and I swallow the lump forming seeing the name underneath it.
