10. Hendrix #4
Here we go again with evading, but luckily for me, I come equipped with liquid courage.
“Oh, yeah…what part of Europe was it again?”
“Cyprus.” A calm, deep voice belonging to Vic surprises me, and I whip around, his gaze avoiding us. “From what I hear Saint’s really enjoying himself.”
“Uh, okay,” I mumble, unsure of how to react to the first acknowledgment of his son.
“What’s up, Daddy?” Theory beams, but he still refuses to make eye contact.
“Can you girls please go and get yourselves decent for a family dinner?”
The last thing I want is another family dinner in this place…but I owe it to my mom, Theory, even Vic to swallow my pride and at least try to be civil.
“Yeah, sure.” I swipe my phone off the table and stand, which causes Vic to take a step back and hand me a towel.
“I appreciate your willingness, kiddo. Think you girls could be ready by seven?”
In spite of my intentions to get ready quickly, a phone call from Archer delayed my plans. But I did manage to get him off the phone in time for a shower and half ass blowout of my hair.
Unsure if I was supposed to dress for some occasion, I settled on a simple pair of leggings and a halter crop top, assuming there won’t be any visitors showing up on a random Wednesday.
I’m proven right as I reach the dining room, hearing the four people I expected talking about the school fire and how it may have been started by a student.
I didn’t have the time to get into the Riverside mess with Archer during our brief call, but from what I gathered someone may have been partying a little too hard.
I have every intention of getting more info tonight, but the conversation halts the second I step through the doorway.
Vic stands to greet me, gesturing for me to sit down next to Auntie Pop.
“So much for an hour, huh?” Mom raises a brow, but there’s jest behind it.
“Sorry. Archer called and I lost track of time.”
“It’s alright, kiddo, just eat.” Auntie points to the seafood risotto on the plate in front of me. “Fish tastes like shit when it’s cold.”
Auntie’s a little too late with the temperature thing, and the way I’m struggling to chew a scallop makes it obvious.
“Darla,” Vic calls out to where she’s perched feet away from the table. “Would you please bring Hendrix a fresh dish?”
With a curt bow and an, “of course, sir,” she ambles over, takes my plate, then disappears behind the door to the kitchen. Her exit leaves everyone but Vic to stare at anything except each other.
He takes a sip of his water. “So how are you liking your new room, Hendrix?”
If the tension was thick a second ago, it’s choking us now.
Be polite, Hendrix. You swore you would.
With an unapologetic reach for the last of Auntie’s wine, I throw it back. “Very nice, thanks.”
“Hendrix!” Mom scolds, but Vic silences her with a raised hand.
“Is the decor and clothing to your liking? Your mother made sure of it.”
“Yup, awesome.”
“Well, that’s great, then.” He takes another sip. “Because I want you to be as comfortable as possible when you’re here.”
“I appreciate that.”
He nods, placing his glass down on the table to return to eating.
Auntie, in turn, retrieves her glass from me in a much less chill fashion, then glares daggers sharp enough to cut through metal.
“I see you girls had fun today,” Mom chimes in, saving me from a kick under the table. “Did you enjoy the pool?”
“You know I can’t swim.”
“Yes…but I’m sure we can fix that. Get you some lessons.”
Agitation claws at my insides.
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
“I, for one, can’t wait to take advantage of it,” Auntie says through a mouthful.
Vic swallows. “Well, Poppy, you’re welcome to enjoy it any time.”
This room may be big enough to store an elephant, but fuck do I need it to leave.
Darla returns with my food, placing it in front of me. “Please let me know if this one’s not to your liking.”
I smile up at her. “I’m sure it’s fine…thanks Darla.”
Another small bow and she returns to her perch.
“So, your mother tells me you like to draw.” Vic continues the conversation.
“A little more than like.”
“Hendrix wants to get into cartoon and animation,” Mom says proudly.
“I can see why…you have quite the knack for it.”
My hand freezes.
“You’ve seen my drawings?”
“I have,” Vic states. “Your mother showed me some of your work while she set up your room.”
“A bit invasive, Mom. Don’t you think?” I mutter, and guilt slacks the curve of Vic’s jaw.
“I can assure you, Hendrix, it was only the designs she hung up on your wall.”
When I stab my fork around the plate, it has nothing to do with wanting to eat and everything to do with wanting to stab people.
Art is personal. Not for someone, even my mother, to show off like some trophy. No matter how proud I know she is of them.
It took Bex weeks, and Archer months, for me to trust them enough to share my work. Which was way longer than it took this crack of a marriage to be thrusted on me.
For that…I trust no one at this table.
Not even Mom or Auntie with their cryptic and sycophantic bullshit.
I stare down at my hand as it squeezes around the utensil, causing my knuckles to burn a pale shade of red.
Mom’s intrusion is fucked up, but nowhere near justifying the rage bursting inside me, hot enough to melt my veins.
What the fuck is wrong with you, dude?
My conscience appears like an entity, loosening my grip.
Chill the fuck out.
With a deep breath and rapid blinking, I come down from the high, allowing the fork to serve its true purpose and attempt to eat.
Except…with the loss of my cool came the loss of my appetite.
So, I toss the fork on the table and reach for a cup of water instead, chugging it in hopes it’ll put out the fire.
“You know…” Vic presses his luck again. “I got a buddy over at BU.”
The abbreviation is like ice to my veins, freezing my hand midair. I glance at him with my heart at the edge of its cage.
“As in…?”
“As in…Bromwell University.”
I straighten in my seat, heart pounding for a whole different reason. “Are you serious?”
Bromwell is the of anything, everything , art and design. Impossible to impress, even more impossible to get in. A school I never would’ve considered throughout my years of public high school—and would only dream of attending during my past year at Riverside.
Anyone who is anyone in the industry has attended Bromwell…and this guy just dabbles with the mention of the university like it’s a piece of cake.
There’s got to be a punchline in here somewhere…
Something I don’t get to find out because the staff appears to refill our drinks, effectively putting a nix on the conversation.
“So, Hendrix.” Mom shimmies in her seat when they’re done. “Vic and I found a solution to your problem.”
“My problem?”
“About where you will stay.”
Not this shit again.
“I already told you where I’m staying .”
Both Auntie and Theory shift uncomfortably but seem to know better than to chime in.
Can’t say the same for Vic.
“Unfortunately, Hendrix, you staying at a hotel is out of the question.”
And just like that, once again, my appetite for food is replaced with one for violence.
“No offense, Vic, but this is between my mom and me.”
“It absolutely is not ,” Mom all but hisses. “I already told you where you’d be staying, but Vic was nice enough to find an alternative that appeases everyone.”
“Just listen to him, Hendrix. You may actually like what he has to say,” Auntie whispers in my ear.
Vic takes my silence as permission to continue. “Turns out I have a last minute business trip this weekend in D.C., and we’ll be staying in one of our family homes with relatives. So even though your mother suggested you remain here—”
“Demanded,” I correct him and Mom interjects.
“I’m sorry, baby, okay? I was just having a rough morning.”
I forgave her hours ago, but I’m not stupid enough to let her know that.
“Regardless…” Vic proceeds. “It isn’t an option because almost everyone at this table will be joining me, and the staff will be away.”
“I am not —”
“ Which is why …I came up with another plan.”
“And what plan is that?”
“You stay at Riverside.”
My gaze shoots side to side. “You should know more than anyone that the dorms are closed.”
“The female ones, yes. But there happens to be a room available on the other side.”
“The male dorms? You can’t be serious.”
“Actually, I am.”
Leaning my elbows on the table, I say, “There was no mention of any students un-enrolling from school.”
“Oh, I know. But there’s a room available for you.”
A room available during the summer? Impossible.
Kids may go home, but they return weeks before school starts, except for maybe those who are still away on vacation.
The thought comes through like a bolt of lightning shocking my brain. “Hell. Fucking. No,” I spit. “You all lost your damn minds.”
Mom slaps her elbows down on the table, mirroring my stance.
“Hendrix. It’s either you join us for the weekend, visit with some of Vic’s family, or you stay in Saint’s room. Those are your choices.”
In spite of Mom’s claws, Vic continues with the good guy approach. “Saint won’t be back for another couple of weeks, so you could even remain there until the renovations in the female dorms are completed.”
Here I am. Forced into a true case of pick your poison.
Travel out of the state like one big happy blended family, or spend the next few days in my psycho stepbrother’s dorm room slash sex pad.
Pass.
Death sounds sweeter than both.
“I’m staying with Archer, then.”
“Unfortunately, your friend Archer is dealing with his own problems after what happened at school.”
Problems? The fuck?
He wasn’t even there, he was with us.
My heels tap relentlessly against the floor as I reach for my phone in my pocket, shooting him a text to call me asap.
Diversion and distraction.
“I can tell you’re itching to escape, Hendrix.” Vic leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. “But I need your answer now because we’re leaving early in the morning.”
“It’ll be fun!” Theory shakes my knee. “C’mon, come with us! You met my cousins Shay and Liana at the wedding, they’re really cool.”
Oh, yeah. I remember those two.
Drunken hot messes by nine o’clock.
The only thing worse than being a drunk hot mess, is taking care of someone you don’t give a shit about when they’re a drunken hot mess.
Harder pass.
“I don’t…” I swallow, cursing under my breath.
“You’ll be more than comfortable in Saint’s room, Hendrix,” Vic pushes on. “It has all the essentials and Carlo will be just outside the door to keep the riff raff away.”
All the essentials…
I think long and hard about the lesser of two evils…days in a house full of strangers or days in Saint’s room all alone?
One I know he didn’t have time to empty before disappearing.
One I also know is a great place to get answers to my questions.
With no limits, disruptions, or evading.
Saint, along with my mom, took it upon themselves to expose all of what I hold sacred—and I’m not just talking my body, my friends, or my drawings.
Every promise she broke and boundary he crossed was done without consequence. One forcing me to embrace this life I don’t want and the other threatening the one I do.
Both hurting me for reasons I don’t understand.
Which is why I deserve the fucking truth.
Even if it means choosing the greater evil to get it.