41. Saint #2
Therefore I refuse to like his new wife till she falls in line.
Hendrix grips my hand under the table, something she’s able to do since I dragged her chair over five feet to sit at my side, then gives me a grateful, but stern look telling me to chill.
I keep a sharp glare on the mother, who’s got an even sharper one on me, but do what my girl asks for her exhaustion’s sake.
I wouldn’t be me without a little pettiness, though.
With my lip curled into a “fuck you” grin, I lift Hendrix’s knuckles to my lips, kissing them before resting our hands on the table.
“So, sissy, do you know which pieces you’ll be showing Daddy’s friend Mike?” Theory asks Hendrix with a desperate keep it movin’ smile.
“I’ve got some sketches, comical skits,” she responds, unbothered by the pissing match taking place between me and her mom.
“Oh, can I see?”
Hendrix wrinkles her nose. “Close to the chest, sorry.”
Fuck, she isn’t kidding. Not even I’m allowed to see them.
And I’ve seen pretty much all of her artwork by now.
Theory scoffs, faking offense, but doesn’t push the issue.
Probably because she’s aware of the truth bomb spilled on Hendrix last night, and how she’s clearly still recovering from it.
“Well, I have no doubt Mike will be impressed,” my father reassures her.
When Hendrix smiles this time, it’s a lot brighter. “I really hope so…this is my unicorn university.”
“Why on earth would you have any doubt?” Hendrix’s mother pulls her attention from me. “You know how amazing you are.”
“I’m not saying I don’t believe in myself, it’s just…” She casts a wary glance at my dad, who interprets her worries immediately.
“Listen, kiddo,” he says, tone serious. “I promise if things go well at your interview on Saturday, it will have nothing to do with me and everything to do with your level of talent. Mike’s already been told how to base his judgment.”
You’d think my father just handed Hendrix the keys to Bromwell by how much relief washes over her face. “Good because I want to earn my acceptance.”
He holds two hands up in front of him. “Absolutely, kiddo, and I respect you for it.”
“We’ll all be proud of you regardless of the outcome, Hendrix,” her aunt states with certainty.
“Absolutely.” Her mom winks. “But you’ll be getting in, no doubt.”
Theory reassures Hendrix right after, and I offer mine in the form of a kiss to the side of her head.
A cell phone ringing interrupts the kumbaya, coming straight from the pocket of Hendrix’s mother.
She silences it with a smile, trying to keep the conversation about her daughter going. “Do you know what you’ll be wearing yet? If not, us girls can totally go shopping tomorrow. Make it a whole day.”
The fact this lady has no idea Hendrix has been debating between two outfits for a week goes to show how little she’s been paying attention.
“I’ve decided on a pale blue power suit and heels.”
“Hell yeah.” Theory whistles. “You looked so hot in that one, babe. Like a real bad bitch.”
She’s not wrong, Hendrix in a short blazer and tight pants licking the curves of her figure is sexy as fuck. My little Jimi knew exactly what she was doing strutting in that one for me.
It’s why I had her sweet ass bent over the bed to fuck her in it.
“How about your hair?”
“I’m thinkin’ pulled back in a tight bun.”
Fucking, shit. This girl is killing me.
As discreetly as my jeans will allow, I adjust my hardening dick, then refocus my attention on the glass of bourbon my father ordered for me.
I’m mid sip when my sister groans. “Curtain bangs?”
“Curtained, obviously ,” Hendrix says, leaving me stuck with the image of her on her knees with those green eyes behind them.
“Sounds perfect.” Hendrix’s mother speaks, and for once I’m semi relieved. Even more when her phone rings for the second time, cutting the conversation. “Sorry.” She winces, ignoring it again, and I can see the frustration in Hendrix’s eyes.
“Why do you refuse to answer calls in front of me?” she snaps. “Who is it?”
“Spam calls, baby. I don’t know how they got my number.”
Hendrix calls bullshit, and I hate knowing she has every right.
“You’re such a damn liar,” Hendrix snaps again, then looks over at her aunt for some support, but ends up scolding her too when she stays quiet. “Real nice.” She shakes her head, then regards my dad. “And what about you? Gonna keep lying to your son too?”
You can bet your ass when I shift in my seat this time, it has nothing to do with being a horny piece of shit.
Just a piece of shit.
Three more days, motherfucker.
Keep your mouth shut and let her get past this interview in peace.
“ Signorina …” the Italian, for the first time in fucking months, doesn’t piss me off when he interrupts us from the hallway, holding out Hendrix’s coat. Where she takes her time glaring at the adults around the table before responding to him that she’s coming.
“You’re leaving?” June asks, yet another thing about Hendrix she has no clue about.
“Carlo’s taking me to his favorite gelato spot.” She pins her mother with a tight smile. “You know…as a pre-celebratory meal.”
Usually I’d have bitched that she’s going anywhere without me, but after last night, and since it’s with her Italian, I fought the urge to lock the guy in The Pit for the next three days.
And decided on following them, instead.
See? Progress .