7. Caleb
Chapter seven
The metallic taste of my tequila-induced hangover still haunts me as I sway on my seat at family dinner. Gage has been his normal silent self, but Beth hasn’t said more than two words. Her normally bright green eyes are murky and unfocused.
Our meeting with the High Rollers on Friday turned into hours of drinking at their casino late into the night to gain their favour.
They invited us back on Saturday to tell us the good news.
Smoke and Barrel could indeed open at the old Heart City theatre.
This led to, once again, celebrating in their private booths at the nightclub in the casino.
They agreed to a fifteen per cent cut, pending review after one year of operation.
If it did well, they would let Gage expand Smoke and Barrel to the three other High Roller casinos in the country.
We were high on the win and gladly accepted the endless shots, cocktails and spirits that clouded the night’s events.
The flight home, where we all still smelled like regret, was accompanied by the sound of Beth purging her sins for the first half hour of our flight home, followed by snores that would put an ogre to shame.
“Here you go, sweetie.” My mother places a glass of fizzing water on the table in front of me.
Her familiar lavender perfume fills the air, reminding me of the times as a child when I felt sick.
She would sit at my bedside and run her fingers through my hair.
The warm, calming smell instantly puts me at ease.
I consumed a little too much alcohol this weekend for it to do the trick now, but it still helps a little.
We came straight from the airport to our grandparents’ house for our traditional Sunday dinner, and I feel ready to die or puke. I’m not sure which would be more welcome at this point. Isabelle made a quick escape as soon as we landed, but not before telling me she was calling in sick for tomorrow.
Beth’s wailing makes me shudder when she rests her head on the table. “Make it stop, Mummy.”
“Jesus, how much did you drink?” Mason shouts. Probably not, but it certainly sounds that way. “You smell like the plague, by the way.” He looks over at me with those mismatched blue and green eyes and scrunches his nose.
“I will gut—” Her threat is cut off by a demonic burp, causing us all to grimace as she sends her chair toppling back in her panicked race down the hall, one hand over her mouth.
“Did you let your sister overindulge?” my dad asks from the seat beside me.
His wavy hair, which matches my own, is salted with streaks of white amongst the chestnut brown.
“Let her? There is no let when it comes to Beth,” I say.
It makes my head spin to talk. I think we would all benefit from a silent dinner tonight.
“I hope you’re all hungry.” My grandmother enters the dining room, a giant platter filled with roasted vegetables in hand, my grandfather following with a tray of carved meat.
My grandmother’s name is responsible for the fortune bestowed upon our family.
She and her older sister, Aunt Henrietta, inherited their dad’s mining company, which led to her meeting my grandfather at age nineteen.
She was appointed as the spokesperson for H&H Mining when they announced their partnership with his investment company to build a new sports stadium.
They started as enemies, but nearly sixty years later, and after he took her name at marriage, he still follows her around like a dependent puppy .
“Looks and smells delicious. Thank you, Grams.” Mason rubs his stomach, and my grandmother smiles at his delight, placing a kiss on top of his head.
Her short rose gold hair is meticulously styled.
There’s not a moment Grams doesn’t look like a radiant billionaire and effortlessly happy at the same time.
“Dig in, my sweetness. A growing boy needs a good home-cooked meal.” She might be worth billions, but she rarely lets anyone help her in the kitchen.
Cooking is her love language. She always waits to eat last whenever we’re together so she can see each of us enjoy her efforts before she starts.
Mason, my parents and grandfather all start filling their plates.
Beth is still absent from the table while Gage and I stew in the rancid aftereffects of too much alcohol.
“Gage, sweetheart. Can I do up your plate?” My grandmother rests her delicate hand over his tattooed one. Her charm bracelet clatters as it rests against the wooden table, making Gage wince at the sound.
“Sure. Thanks, Grams.” Gage offers her his plate but hesitates for a moment before letting her take it from him.
She smiles and begins piling it high with every dish on offer.
I see Gage’s eyes cross as she places it back down in front of him.
If I weren’t on death’s door, I would laugh at the way his face pales from the sight of it.
Feet shuffle down the hallway as Beth rejoins us. “I think I threw up a kidney.”
“Elizabeth.” My mother tuts.
“Karma,” Gage coughs under his breath. While Gage hates his birth name, Henry, Beth also despises hers. I sip at the water my mother gave me earlier, the added electrolyte tablet now dissolved, as I see Beth point her nose in the air, eyebrows arching with authority.
“So, Henry, how was your night? ”
“The same as yours, I’d imagine.” He picks up a fork and moves the food around on his plate with a grimace. “And stop fucking calling me that.”
“Get much sleep?” Her tone sounds innocent, but it’s underlined with suspicion.
“My sleep was fine,” Gage says slowly, irritation dripping on every word. My eyes shift between my siblings, trying to decipher what’s going on.
“How about on the plane?” Gage’s fork clangs against the table as it falls from his fingers. A showdown is brewing between their heated stares. Beth is the first to break contact, shrugging as she continues. “You seemed very comfortable with Isabelle. Far more so than the flight over.”
Ah, what?
“Who’s Isabelle?” my mother asks as she passes the pepper grinder over the table to Dad.
“Oh my god, it’s happening!” my grandmother says.
Her body is visibly buzzing with excitement.
She goes from standing to sitting to gulping at her glass of wine.
Her attention is firmly fixed between Beth and Gage as she waits for one of them to fill in the blanks.
And I concur. Someone, please explain what the fuck is going on.
“Nothing’s happening,” Gage says through his teeth.
“I think this photo begs to differ.” Beth smirks while my brother looks panicked.
“A photo?” Mum asks. Grams quickly leaves her seat, rushing over to see what Beth has to share. A triumphant grin graces my sister’s face as she holds out her phone, making sure it’s far enough out of Gage’s reach since he looks ready to explode like a cannon.
“Aww,” my mother coos at whatever evidence Beth has presented her with, and I can’t take it any longer.
I lean over the table and pinch the phone from her fingers to see for myself.
There’s a photo of Isabelle and Gage asleep on the bed of our private plane.
They’re on top of the covers, fully clothed, but Isabelle is tucked in like a little ball against Gage’s side.
Her head nestled right in the crook of his arm, leaning against his chest. His tattooed arm pins her to his side, the dark lines and shading of his grim reaper sleeve looking sombre as it rests against the pale yellow of Isabelle’s oversized hoodie.
His other hand rests over his stomach, the black rose with thorns and leaves stretching down his knuckles.
Isabelle’s dainty, unblemished hand rests right next to it, their fingertips almost touching.
I lift my brows as if saying please explain to my brother.
“We didn’t do anything.” His panicked confession is not reassuring.
“That doesn’t look like nothing.” Beth points at the phone lying in my open palm. Mason leans over me, his mouth full of food. I look at my little brother as he harasses my ears with his loud chewing.
“I thought you said she wasn’t hot?” he says, licking at a drop of gravy that’s fallen onto his lip because he’s talking with his mouth full.
Animal. I’m shaking my head when the phone is snatched up by Gage before I can blink.
His thunderous gaze sends daggers into the screen as he assesses the photo.
“This is on the plane?”
“Yes, brother. Why? Was there somewhere else we may have seen you sleeping with Isabelle this weekend?”
I can see Gage’s chest as it takes in frantic breaths. His eyes blink out of control as they start to take in all the curious faces around the table. When he finally meets my eyes, he hesitates for a split second, then yells, “Caleb likes a girl!”
The utter betrayal. My face contorts in horror, bile rises up my throat. It may be the tequila, but it’s more likely because my brother just threw me under the bus to save himself.
“How. Dare. You.” The mock venom drips from my words as chaos ensues around the table.
“A girl? What is he talking about? ”
“Isabelle was right!”
“Who is this Isabelle chick?”
“What’s her name? Where did you meet her?”
I can hear the questions, but all my attention stays on my brother.
I shake my head at him and turn down my lips, doing my best impersonation of The Godfather , as I talk to Gage about family and respect.
He sinks down in his chair, and as much as I really want to know what the story is there, my own distress pushes harder.
Not only has he deferred attention from himself because, clearly, something did happen with Isabelle, but he’s offered hope to my mother and grandmother that one of us is settling down. Worst of all, he made my thoughts flood with Lex after extreme drinking worked so well to drown her out.