Chapter 20 Des
DES
I’ve closed multi-million dollar clients. I’ve presented at global conferences. I’ve handled screaming clients, impossible deadlines, and over-caffeinated artists. But none of that, not a single moment of my career, has prepared me for the level of stress that is family dinner night.
Correction: not just any family dinner—The Dinner.
Quite possibly the last supper I’ll ever have if I fuck this up.
The dinner with Stan.
Stan, my boss. Stan, the guy whose recommendation basically determines whether I get to call myself creative director or end up working under that smug pile of nepotism known as Kyle.
Tanner's house smells like lemon cleaner and mild panic. He’s been in a whirlwind all day, wiping down every surface, even the ones no human eye will ever see.
I keep refreshing the time on my phone, wondering if maybe—just maybe—an unexpected blackout will hit the block and save me from this catastrophe.
I line up Tanner and his kids in the living room and strut in front of them like a drill sergeant.
“This is a make-or-break night. I need us all on our best behavior. No fighting with each other. Keep the volume at a moderate decibel level. No burping the alphabet.”
“Why are you looking at me?” Dean asks as a burp escapes his lips. “That was a coincidence.”
“Mr. Stan is a good guy, but he’s perceptive.
He’s very observant. The man may be seventy-five, but he can spot an uncentered image from across the room.
” I turn on my heel and pace back down the line.
“What this means is he has a very strong BS detector. He has to believe that my marriage with your dad is real, that me living here with you is real. That we are an imperfect, but real, family. Can we do that?”
Lulu’s hand shoots up. “What’s BS?”
Tanner dips his head into his hand.
“It means bullcrap,” Davy says. “Except instead of crap, it’s–”
“It means something that isn’t real,” I explain.
I’m enlisting a five-year-old for subterfuge.
The depths to which I have sunk. I glance back at Tanner.
Tanner, who I held in my arms last night, who begged for my cock, who found my imperfections beautiful and sexy.
It’s not just a promotion. It’s his family in the middle of this.
We can’t mess this up.
Tonight may be the toughest pitch I ever have. Stan’s daughter is grown, and she lives in Seattle. He sees his grandkids a handful of times per year. He’s not used to being in kid chaos.
The doorbell rings, and my soul briefly leaves my body. Through the front window, I spot Stan waiting at the front door.
“Fuuuuudge. He’s early. Should I have him wait outside? No, I can’t do that.”
Tanner claps me on the shoulder, his bright eyes conveying worry, but also a dash of confidence.
“We got this,” he whispers.
Tanner pulls the door open. “You must be Stan!”
Stan holds a bottle of wine and wears a red polka-dot bowtie and blue suit.
“Evening!” Stan booms, stepping inside.
“Stan. Welcome.” I step past Tanner to shake my boss’s hand. Then I realize I need to start projecting husband and dad energy from the jump, so I throw my arm around my fake husband. “Come on in.”
“I hope you don’t mind that I’m early. I thought there would be traffic, but I managed to hit all green lights.”
“The universe wanted you here,” Tanner says, shutting the front door. Stan doesn’t rely on Google Maps after one experience where the app had him almost drive into the Hudson River.
To my utter relief, the kids remain in their line in the living room, making an excellent first impression. Orderly, calm, quiet. I stop and watch them for a quick second, and it hits me how adorable they all look.
“This is the family,” I say. Every ad campaign depends on a singular image. Tanner and I stroll behind the kids and put our hands on their shoulders. One big, happy family. Take that, Norman Rockwell. “We have Lena, our oldest. She’s a fantastic student.”
“Nice to meet you,” Lena says with a perfectly friendly smile. She steps forward and shakes Stan’s hand. Hopefully her siblings follow her lead.
“Pleasure, my dear.”
“And this is Davy. He loves playing hockey, just like his dads.” I tussle Davy’s hair.
“How’s it going, big guy?” Stan gives his hand a hardy shake. “What position do you play?”
“Left winger. Just like my dad. Uh, that dad.” He points at Tanner.
“A real chip off the old block.” Stan elbows Tanner.
“You betcha!” I exclaim, for probably the first time in my fucking life.
I give Dean’s shoulders a massage, praying he keeps things in check. “And this is Dean, our resident magician.”
Dean steps forward, but instead of holding out a hand, he whips out a deck of cards from his back pocket. I knew I should have searched him earlier.
“Pick a card.” He fans them out.
“Mr. Stan doesn’t have time for a trick,” I say.
“Of course I do!” Stan rubs his hands together and hunches down to Dean’s level. “Hmmm which one should I pick? I’ll go with this one.” He hugs it to his chest.
“Remember it. Now put it back.” Dean looks away as Stan slides the card back into the fanned out deck, both of them hamming it up. “Excellent.”
Dean shuffles the deck, then massages his temples. I feel my heart pound in my chest hoping that Dean gets this right. He has a confidence I have no choice but to admire. He taps the deck twice, and flashes the top card. Seven of clubs.
“Is this your card?”
“Nope.”
Dean flashes the next card. “This?”
Stan shakes his head no.
“This?”
“Incorrect.”
Stan’s excitement fades with each card. I can feel my promotion and job slipping away.
“This?”
I step between them. “You’ll get ‘em next time, buddy.”
“It was the eight of clubs,” Stan tells him.
“That was the next card in the deck!” Dean holds it up, but too little too late.
“And this is Lulu, our youngest.”
Stan bends down and holds out his hand like he’s meeting a princess. “Charmed, madam.”
Lulu points to the opposite wall. “Is that picture centered?”
Stan wrinkles his brow in the confusion we’re all experiencing. He follows her finger to a framed picture of the kids at the beach.
“Uncle Des–uh, Dad–says that you can spot an uncentered image from across the room.”
Tanner muffles a laugh behind his hand. I internally curse myself for not watching my phrasing more carefully.
“He did?” Stan lets out an amused laugh. “What else did he say?”
“We don’t have to—” I start.
“That you have a great BS detector.” She signals for Stan to lean in. “BS means bullcrap,” she whispers.
Stan turns back to me. I throw up my hands and emit the most pitiful laugh known to man. “Kids stay the darnedest things!”
“Why don’t you have a seat, Stan? We have some cheese and crackers out. Dinner’s almost ready.” Tanner leads Stan to the couch. “I can open this bottle of wine. Would you like a glass?”
“Yes please.” Stan lowers himself onto the couch—and the unmistakable Pffffftttt! noise of a loud fart echoes through the living room.
Tanner's eyes widen. I brace for impact. I dart my eyes to Dean. Even his face goes white.
Stan pulls the whoopee cushion out from under him and examines it.
My career flashes before my eyes. It was good while it lasted.
But Stan throws his head back and laughs. “Good one,” he says, patting his knee. “Reminds me of when my brothers and I were little.”
I release the breath I’ve been holding since sunrise.
“I’m a magician and comedian.” Dean beams, victorious. “I got more tricks, wanna see?”
“Maybe after dinner,” I interrupt, trying to regain some control. Tanner comes back to the living room with two glasses of wine. He hands one to Stan, and one to me, which I chug.
“You’ve got an energetic brood,” Stan says.
“Kids, why don’t you go play outside until dinner is ready,” Tanner says in a genius move. I could kiss him. I flash him a sigh of relief.
Davy, Dean, and Lulu gallop through the living room to the glass sliding door. They’re probably as excited to burn off their energy as I am. I find myself standing a bit taller, more relaxed.
Lena pours herself a Sprite and sits on the couch arm.
“Lena made the honor roll all through middle school. I suspect she’s going to do the same in high school.” Tanner tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear.
“That’s great. Good grades will open up so many doors for you. Opportunity awaits,” says Stan.
“I love school.” Lena shrugs, nearly on the cusp of laying it on thick. “Des always talks about how important school is. He always talks about making good choices. I know it’s corny to say, but he’s a great role model.”
Stan looks over at me and winks.
“I’m lucky. These are great kids. Parenting has its challenges, but it’s so worthwhile.” I pour myself another glass of wine and promise myself that I’m cut off after this one.
“Des is the best stepdad ever,” she declares, all wide-eyed sincerity. “He makes sure I don’t have to babysit my siblings every second anymore. And he said if I make the honor roll this semester, he’s going to buy me a car!”
Tanner chokes on air. I stare at her like she’s sprouted another head.
“I—what?” I manage.
“You said you’d think about it,” Lena counters, smirking just enough to make me suspect blackmail is her love language. “I think Lulu needs help on the swing. A big sister’s job is never done.”
I watch her stride into the backyard. Did I just get played?
Stan chuckles warmly. “Well, sounds like you’ve settled into family life, Des.”
I plaster on my most convincing, definitely-not-panicking smile. “You know me, all about stability.”
Before I can unravel any further, the doorbell rings again.
Enter stage left: Kyle, his glamorous, Botoxed wife Marissa, and their trio of miniature private-school diplomats.
The boy wears a blazer and tie, while his younger twin sisters wear matching dresses.
They look like they stepped off a yacht where they were getting family pictures taken.
Why didn’t I think to have the kids dress in color-coordinated outfits?