Page 33 of Flock
“What were your parents like?”
I’ve never asked about them before. Not even when I was younger. Even when I had my youth to fall back on for false bravery, I knew better than to ask. They were both deceased, that’s the extent of what both Mom and I know.
Roman draws a perfect bite of pasta onto his fork. “What specifically do you want to know?”
“Were they as outgoing as you?”
His jaw clenches and I congratulate myself but steady my features.
“They were socialites, and my father kept regular attendance at the golf course.”
“How did they die?”
“They drank.”
“Poison? They go out in a Shakespearean way?”
“You find death amusing?”
“No, Sir.” I find this conversation amusing.
“They died not far apart. Three years. They had me when they were in their forties.”
“You got a jump on them in that sense, huh?”
My mother was twenty when she had me, and Roman was older by twelve years. He’d dipped into the honeypot.
“I never planned for children.”
I give him jazz hands. “Surprise. It’s a girl.”
Not even a twitch of a smile.
“Tough room,” I sip my water. “Sorry about the diapers— couldn’t be helped.” I’m positive the man never changed one of my diapers. Not one.
“Cecelia, do you plan on behaving this way all night?”
“One can only hope.” That you don’t destroy my soul with your death glare.
“So, no parents, no girlfriends. Do you have a friend to hang out with?”
“I have associates. Plenty of them.”
“So, what does Roman do to let his hair down?”
Another side-eye. I’m getting nowhere.
“Dinner was delicious, but I do have some pressing plans tonight. May I please be excused?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
As I flee the dining room, I swear I hear him echo my sigh of relief.
A little over an hour later, I enter the garage, and Tyler’s dimple greets me first. His eyes roam over me as I delight in his attention. I took special care tonight, soaking my body in lotion mixed with juniper essential oil. I styled my hair in beach waves and bronzed my skin so that it shimmers, even in the muddled yellow lamps above. I went light with my makeup, so the freckles Sean told me he loves shine through. But my lips I colored hot pink to match my new sundress.
“Damn, girl, you’re smoking,” Tyler says, greeting me with a warm half hug as Sean converses with Dominic on the far side of the garage away from everyone else. Even with the purposeful distance, their aggressive voices are muffled as Steve Miller croons out, “The Joker”. The conversation looks tense, so I decide to leave them to it. Jeremy greets me next with a lift of his chin and an appreciative sweep of his eyes as he takes his shot at the table. Jeremy is shorter in stature, but I can tell his second home is the gym. He’s bulky, solid muscle beneath his simple clothes, but he wears them well. He’s got the trendy man-beard thing going on, and sports suspenders over his T-shirt. His brown hair is cropped shorter, unlike Sean’s, who’s got that struck-by-God’s-lightning hair.
“Up for a game, Cee?” Jeremy drawls before he taps the nine-ball in.
