Chapter 14 #2
Wheat Kings by the Hip starts playing, loon sounds coming from both the speakers and the loons on the lake like we’re floating in surround sound.
“Love this song,” I say as we sit at the table. I’m pressed right up beside Owen. Our thighs are touching, but he makes no effort to move his.
Neither do I.
“Beet salad, bean?” Owen asks, offering me the bowl.
“Sure, Lavoie,” I say, grinning as I take it.
“You two are so cute together,” Cassandra says, smiling.
Then why are you trying to rip us apart, you heartless monster?
“Thanks,” I say, dumping a spoonful of beet salad onto my plate. “I just love this guy so much.”
“That’s a lovely ring,” she says, looking at my hand. “Is it a family heirloom?”
“It was my grandmother’s wedding ring,” Owen says proudly.
Tristan laughs. “You gave your wife the ring your grandmother was wearing when she jerked off your grandfather?”
“Tristan,” Amber snaps. “Jesus.”
Cassandra sneers, trying to hide her laugh.
“That’s incredibly rude,” Edward says, giving his son a disapproving look. “Besides, women didn’t do anything besides missionary back then.”
Amber just shakes her head.
“Well, I love it,” I say, spinning it on my finger.
“As long as you do,” Cassandra says, giving me a pitiful smile. “That’s all that matters.”
“Just make sure you wash it first,” Tristan says as he grabs a sandwich from the platter.
“Tristan,” Amber snaps. “Can you just be a normal person for like once?”
He sticks his tongue out at her and then takes a huge bite of his sandwich.
I smile up at Owen, hoping I can make him feel better. “It’s a beautiful ring,” I whisper.
“You are so immature,” Amber says.
“Am not,” Tristan says with his mouth full.
“Your favorite show is Funniest Home Bloopers,” she says, rolling her eyes.
I freeze. Oh. Shit.
“You have the maturity of a twelve-year-old.”
Of all the stupid shows in existence and that one is his favorite?
My eyes dart over to Tristan. Has he seen my episode? Would he recognize me without a scraped elbow and melted wax in my hair?
He doesn’t look at me. He just keeps chewing his sandwich.
Okay. Maybe I’m safe.
We eat in awkward silence for a bit. We’re on a boat which is making everything so much worse. I can’t even excuse myself to go to the bathroom to regroup. I’m just stuck here, simmering in this awkwardness.
Edward seems like the easiest one to talk to so I hone in on him.
“So, Edward,” I say, trying to get back to a fun, easy vibe. No one looks like they’re trying to meet me halfway. They all seem incredibly comfortable keeping it awkward. “I’d love to hear about your career. Maybe you can teach me how to get my own private island. How did you do it?”
“Sheer ambition with little to no scruples,” Amber says.
“What’s a scruple?” Tristan asks with his mouth full.
“Something you’ll never have,” Amber answers, narrowing her eyes on him.
“I made my bones in oil and gas,” Edward says, leaning back and looking pretty darn satisfied with himself.
“Started in Fort McMurray, nineteen eighty-nine. I borrowed money from everyone I knew and a few people I didn’t, and bought a stake in a piece of land everyone else had written off. I was right and they were wrong.”
“Was that before or after you bribed a land assessor?” Amber asks with a smirk.
“Before,” he says with a self-satisfied grin. “What? I shared the wealth.”
He takes a sip of his scotch and glances at Owen. “I do have scruples by the way. I’m just competitive is all.”
“Competitive and ruthless,” Amber says.
He tilts his glass at her. “In business, those are the same thing. It’s all a big game. You want to play with your hands tied behind your back go ahead, just don’t ask me for money when you inevitably lose.”
“She doesn’t want to play the game,” Tristan says with a chuckle. “She wants to flip the whole board over.”
“Yeah, because the game is rigged,” Amber says. “It’s all a mess. Late-stage capitalism is ruining everything.”
Cassandra sighs and then forces out a smile. “Amber wants to be an activist when she grows up.”
“I’m twenty-two, thank you,” she answers, flashing a vicious smile right back.
“I’m sorry,” Cassandra says in mock despair. “It’s funny how often I forget that.”
They have themselves a glaring contest across the small folding table while everyone else eats.
“I think that’s wonderful,” I say, trying to cut the tension. “What form of activism are you leaning toward?”
“Environmental accountability,” she says, sitting up straighter. “Specifically in the extraction industry.”
She stares at her father as she says it.
“The oil industry has done way too much damage to the planet,” she continues fearlessly. “It’s time for them to account for their crimes.”
“Crimes?” Edward says as he sets down his scotch.
“My daughter,” he says slowly, “wants to dismantle the industry that paid for everything she owns, including the iPad she was watching anime on twenty minutes ago.”
“Correct,” Amber says.
“Including this boat.”
“Also correct.”
“Great,” Edward says, clasping his hands. “Then perhaps you’d like to swim home?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t even be on this lake in the first place,” she says. “What gave you the right to clear-cut an acre of pristine forest?”
“Money gave me that right,” he says with a laugh. “And we’re going to make a lot more of it, right, Owen?”
Edward looks at Owen like he’s hoping for some solidarity.
Owen looks at his sandwich.
An awkward silence descends on the table.
“More beet salad anyone?” Cassandra asks brightly, offering the bowl.