Chapter Eleven #2
“It’s okay. I’m not good in public situations either.
It’s so, um, loud.” I want to tell Camden what Marley said about autism, and how she thinks I might be neurodivergent, too.
I’m not ready, though. I’m still trying to understand what that means for me, and I’m not ready for other people to ask me questions I can’t even answer for myself yet.
It’s bad enough that I’m a young woman in STEM.
“Tell me about it!” Camden reaches for his champagne flute. “I have ADHD, so a room like this, with all the background chatter? It’s a nightmare.”
I nod my agreement. “By the way, I prefer to be called Minerva, if that’s okay.”
Dot smiles. “If I had a beautiful name like that, I’d want to use it, too.”
“Is Dot short for something?”
“Dorothy.” She wrinkles her nose. “It makes me sound like I’m an old woman, or like I should be frolicking through a field of poppies with my pet schnauzer.”
“Toto was a Cairn Terrier,” I say. “In the movies.” As soon as the words are out, I could kick myself. Nobody cares what kind of dog Toto was. Stop being disagreeable, Minerva.
“Was he?” Dot asks, evidently untroubled by this trivia. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen it all the way through, actually. It’s too weird.”
“Really? I always liked reading stories about Minerva,” I admit.
“Yeah, because she’s a goddess.” Dot scoffs. “She’s a lot more interesting than some moony-eyed teenager who wanders around in the woods with strange men. Not for me, thank you.”
I laugh at the absurdity of this conversation. Camden shakes his head. “Can’t relate at all. Nobody popular is named Camden.”
Dot flutters her eyelashes at him. “I don’t know, there’s this one very sexy hockey player…”
Tristan returns, balancing two plates and a pair of drinks. “Here, I got you a few things I thought you’d like.” He slides one plate of finger foods toward me and takes the other for himself before doing the same with the drinks. I sniff the liquid, which is fizzy but too dark to be champagne.
“Sparkling grape juice,” he explains. “Family and booze didn’t seem like a great combo.”
“Oh, do you have family here?” Dot looks around.
I hunch my shoulders in automatic self-defense. I can’t help but look around to check my vicinity. My stomach clenches when I spot a familiar trio by the bar. “Yes.”
Tristan spins on his heel. “Where?”
I nod toward the group. There are enough people in the ballroom by now that he might not be able to tell who I mean, though my mother and I look alike enough that he could probably guess. She catches my eye, and her mouth twists into a frown. She turns away from me.
Ouch.
A moment later, Frankie spots me. She smiles and nods toward me, and if I didn’t know her, I’d think she was happy to see me.
Unfortunately, I do know her, and that means I know all of her tricks as well.
Just like the slithery Venom mascot, she’s quick to strike.
She says something to our father before peeling off from the group to stalk toward me.
“Minnie!” she cries, holding out her arms. I take a step back, but she wraps her arms around me anyway.
She pinches the skin of my back and squeezes too tightly.
“You stupid little bitch,” she says in a voice so soft I barely catch it, “you shouldn’t be here.
” She steps back, her smile still out in full force.
She pats my cheek, hard enough that it stings.
“Long time no see, sister. And who’s this?
The hockey player Uncle Dante forced to take care of you?
” She reaches out to run a hand down Tristan’s arm.
“You know, I’ve always had a thing for athletes. ”
Tristan shifts away. “You must be Frankie. Minerva’s told me all about you.”
“Only good things, I hope?” Frankie giggles. “You know, it is gala season. We’ll probably be seeing a lot of each other. And I figured I should introduce myself, since Minerva isn’t one for conversation in crowds. Speaking of which, Minerva, have you seen Luca lately?”
She hasn’t changed. She never will. I curl in on myself, wishing I could get away from her. A lifetime of being mocked, compared, and dismissed has turned me into an ideal target, her personal punching bag.
“Excuse me, Frankie, we were having a conversation with our friends.” Tristan places a protective hand on my back. His palm rests in the same place where she pinched me. Did he see that?
Even if he didn’t, he’d believe me if I told him what she’d done. He’d care. I stand up a little straighter.
“Too bad.” Frankie shifts so that the front of her dress gapes over, revealing more of her full, surgically-enhanced cleavage. “If you get bored, I’m around.”
“I can’t imagine that,” Tristan tells her. “When I’m with Min, I’m never bored. She’s fascinating.”
The room shifts, microscopic but real. Someone defended me. Out loud. Without hesitation. My sister has never faced that kind of resistance before.
“I’ll bet.” Frankie’s lip curls. “At least let me give you my number.”
“Nah. I left my phone in the car.” With that, Tristan turns back to the table. “So, Cam, how are you feeling about the next game?”
Frankie huffs and sashays away, trying to cover her humiliation. I can’t believe that just happened. I’ve never seen anyone turn their back on my perfect sister.
I shift closer to Tristan, breathing hard. How did I luck into this guy? Oh, right, Dante. I need to write that man a thank-you card.
“Wow.” Dot nods toward Frankie’s retreating back. “She seems like a witch with a capital B. Maybe I should reconsider my life choices. Someone needs to land a house on top of her.”
I laugh at her unexpected show of support. “I would be forever in your debt.”
“Can’t you hex her?” Camden asks. “Turn her into a spider or something? Or an olive tree?”
“Would if I could,” I say.
Tristan rubs my back. “Are you okay?”
“Better than okay. Thank you.” I wish I could kiss him, but I don’t know if that’s allowed. He’s touching me, but we’re not here together. Not as a couple. Are we?
Another woman sidles up to the table. Her black hair spills around her narrow, muscular shoulders, and her black dress hugs her lean frame.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I’m pretty sure you’re the reason my husband wants an assistant.
We haven’t been properly introduced.” She holds out a hand. “I’m Knova Abbott.”
“Knight’s twin,” Tristan explains.
“And Viktor’s wife.” Knova grins as she shakes my hand. “He would have me believe that you’re the second coming. Can I borrow you for a moment?”
“Oh, um. Yes?”
Tristan cuts in. “Her family’s here. If one of them tries to talk to her, can you bring her back over?”
“We hate them,” Dot adds.
“Ah, understood. We won’t be long.” Knova takes my arm and guides me away to an empty table. “Sorry if you don’t want to talk about work right now, but Viktor keeps blathering about how great you are.”
I blink at her. “He does? He’s never talked to me.” I don’t know what she wants, but I hope she’s not about to accuse me of seducing her husband or something.
Knova sighs. “And yet, apparently, you tricked him into eating vegetables? He’s convinced that an assistant would help him perfect his game. I don’t think he needs one, but… well, I wouldn’t mind supporting him more. So, what do you do for Tristan that’s so special?”
Oh, thank goodness. This really is a work question, and it’s always easier to talk about work than about myself. “For starters, I created a performance dashboard.”
Knova rests her elbows on the table. “Interesting. In bed?”
My face heats up. “On ice. Although things like consistent sleep can help with that.”
She nods thoughtfully. “Right. Maybe I need a performance dashboard for Viktor. He’s not doing well lately.”
“In… bed?”
She snorts. “On the ice. We’re good there, trust me.”
I consider this. “Have you checked his macros? His REM sleep?”
“No, but I could learn more about nutrition. Adjust what we’re eating. It would probably be good for both of us.”
“So what are you doing to help his performance now?”
Knova purses her lips and squints at the ceiling. “Mostly blowjobs?”
“I… what?”
“Works every time.” She winks at me. “And they improve his sleep. Hey, maybe I’m already doing more than I realized.
“Huh. I’ve never tried that.” This warrants further research.
“Ah, I thought so.” Knova gestures toward my face. “You’re a couple.”
“No, we’re not.”
She arches an eyebrow.
“I mean, not officially. We’re just…” What are we?
“You’re a couple,” she insists. “You’re clearly interested in him, and I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. He likes you. Maybe more than likes you. Don’t doubt it for a minute.”
As we make our way back to the table, I wonder if she’s right. The rules around relationships are so complicated, and I’ve never fully understood them. With Tristan, though, the ambiguity isn’t a source of stress. Being with him is wonderful. For now, that’s enough.
The appetizers on my plate have gone cold. My drink is flat. Tristan leans in close to ask, “Want to ditch this boring party and find a new food truck?”
I melt into him. “Yes, please. More than anything.”
It hits me then — he’s choosing me, not just escaping the event. And I let myself enjoy that thought instead of pushing it away.
I don’t even look for my family on the way out.
* * *
As we eat the smashburgers we ordered, covered in a variety of strange toppings—peanut butter and marshmallow for Tristan, ham and pineapple for me—I tell him about the conversation with Knova.
“You made it out unscathed,” he says. “I’m impressed.”
“We exchanged our findings. She wants to help Viktor improve his game, and she had some tips for me, too.”
“Tips about what?”
“KPIs.” I take a giant bite of my burger. The flavor profile is perfect. I’m going to give this place the best review.
“Key performance indicators? I wasn’t aware Knova had much to share on the subject.
“She offered a really insightful suggestion. After all, she’s not tracking his macros, he gets little to no REM sleep, and she’s not making him specially formulated protein bars, but he’s still a solid player.”
“It’s a mystery,” Tristan agrees.
“I don’t think so. She told me what they do differently. It’s blowjobs.”
Tristan chokes on his burger.
“Have you ever tried it?”
“Um.” Tristan fans himself with the front of his shirt. “Is it just me, or is it too hot out here for dress clothes?”
“Seems like a comfortable temperature to me. I could check. Are you avoiding my question?”
He sighs. “A little. Unfortunately, I have no data to contribute to the dashboard.”
“We should try it. I could give you a blowjob.”
Tristan looks around. “Now? Could I finish my burger first?”
“Not here, silly.” I nudge him with my elbow. “But soon. Before the next game.”
“If you insist,” Tristan says.
“I do. You know how I feel about missing data.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “Yeah. At this point, I do.”