Chapter Twenty-Three
TWENTY-THREE
The family gathered around a giant solid oak table in the center of the formal dining room.
Candelabras lit with flickering candles ran down the center of the table.
A giant crystal chandelier hung above it, and at any moment, Shepherd knew the lights would go out, and one of them would drop dead, and a round-headed man with a funny mustache would be crashing the party.
Elwin Kent took one end of the table, and his son the other.
Ginny guided Shepherd to a seat closest to her father, which was great because her grandfather was terrifying.
But it was also bad because he sat across from her stepmother, and she was her own kind of terrifying.
Her face was an expressionless mask. Partly, Shepherd assumed, from the Botox, but some of it was cunning.
There was a dark, intelligent spark in her too-blue eyes that Shepherd recognized because he’d seen it so often in his daughter’s gaze.
Women in strange scrubs walked in carrying trays of food, his stomach grumbling instantly at the delicious smells.
Steam radiated from baskets filled with fresh baked rolls.
There were corn cobs shining in butter, with honey-roasted carrots alongside.
Different types of seafood came next—fresh fish, already-cracked stone crab claws, scallops slathered in even more butter.
He licked his lips, fingers wiggling on the leather arm rests of the high-backed dining chair. This family was ridiculous, but nobody could suggest their home was uncomfortable. Creepy, yes. Haunted, probably. But comfortable, nonetheless.
The women in scrubs began filling plates for everyone based on their preferences, stone crab claws clanking each time they reached for the silver plate with long tongs. When they got to Ginny, she shook her head and whispered, “I’m not hungry.”
Brandy rolled her eyes. “Please don’t let her ruin another dinner,” she said to her husband, but also to the table at large. Shepherd felt the blood begin to boil in his sternum.
“I didn’t say you couldn’t eat. I’m just not going to eat. I don’t have an appetite.”
Brandy glared at Bradley. Bradley shrugged a shoulder. “She’s not hungry.”
“Well, I’m starving,” Vincent called out. “Give me her portion. And Mom’s too, why not. It’s been a long day.”
Ginny covered her mouth with her hand, her hair falling over her face like a curtain. Shepherd only heard the small hiccup because he was sitting so close. The heat inside of him was boiling over now, bubbling up to his throat. “Come on, dude. Have some respect.”
“What?” Vincent peeled off part of an orange-and-black claw. “It’s seafood. There’s, like, no calories in seafood. I can eat as much as I want.”
The back teeth of Shepherd’s jaw ground together, his tongue bumping up against harsh enamel.
How someone as wonderful as Ginny came from this family, he would never understand.
The candle in the closest candelabra dripped wax onto the wooden table.
He watched the drops splatter and mound, one after another, and kept his mouth shut.
Because as much as he didn’t like them, they held his freedom in their hands, even if they didn’t know it yet.
“There are calories in seafood,” Scarlett said to Vincent, conspiratorially. “And especially in butter, and everything here is slathered in butter.”
“Yes, I’m quite surprised by that,” Dior said. “I’ve sworn off butter. In a pinch, I’ll opt for avocado oil.”
Dion bit down on a corn cob, smiled yellow and glistening. “Tastes like Irish butter. Tastes like gold.”
What an idiot. Shepherd had never hated someone he just met more than Ginny’s ex-stepbrother. What was he doing, pitching an ad for butter?
Shepherd was the last one at the table to be served food like a child, and he accepted it with a nod and a murmur of thanks.
The food was delicious. The scallops were soft and buttery, and the fish had a lemon and caper sauce that he would have to talk to his chefs about.
Not that they made fish at the pizza restaurant, but maybe they could sell this kind of sauce on the side as a dip or something. He’d bathe in it, if he could.
“Honestly, Ginny”—Brandy’s fork clanged against her plate—“mindset is everything, you know. And I understand you’re upset. I do. We all do. But you’re bringing the wrong kind of energy to this dinner. Being so negative is not going to help your mother.”
Ginny glared through her curtain of red hair. “Like you care about helping my mother.”
Brandy covered her heart. “I care about your mother because I care about you.”
“Bull. Shit.”
“Ginny,” her father warned. “Brandy’s always going on about this positive vibrational quantum … stuff. She’s giving you advice. She’s not trying to hurt you.”
Brandy held Bradley’s hand. “Thank you, honey. I am trying to help, Ginny. The last thing we want is for you to spiral out of control like you did a few months ago. Remember?”
There were chuckles around the table, mostly, Shepherd realized, from the stepkids. “Something funny?” he asked, his mouth once again moving before his brain had given it permission.
Dior and Dion looked at each other before looking at him, mirror images of serene innocence. “Excuse me?” Dior asked.
“No, I won’t. A lady is missing—and, by the way, you’re the two the police are interested in for that—and you’re sitting here, giggling, eating butter. I want to know what’s so funny. I think we could all use the laugh.”
The siblings didn’t respond, instead giving each other a sideways glance, their expressions mocking.
“Tell us the joke,” Shepherd said. “I want to hear it.”
Dion cleared his throat, stared down at his plate. Dior opted for twirling her hair around one finger, smiling lightly at Scarlett.
Ginny knocked on the table before standing, her shoulders back, her head high, her hair shining in the light of the gothic fixtures. She looked regal and beautiful and powerful. “You are all a bunch of bitches,” she said.
There was a round of gasps and a few more giggles. Elwin Kent split a roll in half with his bare hands. “Virginia. You’re excused.”
Ginny huffed. She looked to her dad for help, but he only shrugged. He did that a lot. Her brother wasn’t any help either; he just kept reaching for more stone crab claws. She turned on her heel and marched out of the room, muttering curses as she went.
Shepherd coughed awkwardly. “Well.”
The wax kept dropping. Vincent reached for another stone crab claw. There were only three left on the platter. Shepherd stood up, grabbed Ginny’s empty plate, and piled the remaining crab on top.
Vincent went, “Hhh!” because his mouth was full.
Then Shepherd did the same with the fish and the corn, leaving behind the carrots. He grabbed an entire basket of bread before nodding once at Elwin, glaring at the rest of them on his way out.
They really were a bunch of bitches.