Baewatch - Xavier Neal Page 0,80
lovingly starts at the same time she tugs me back the way we came. “Let’s get this shit over with.”
Our places at the long table are towards the center directly across from Harrison and April while my parents are at each of the ends.
I pull Brooklyn’s chair out for her during which she inquires, “Where are Harris and Autumn?”
“They’re eating in a different room,” Father swiftly informs. “Children are not meant to dine at the same table as the adults.”
Her brow furrows, but she doesn’t verbally disagree.
He takes notice despite the fact I wish he hadn’t. “Were you not raised that way?”
“No, sir, I was not,” my fiancée politely responds and reaches for her cloth napkin.
“Your family just…let everyone eat at the same table like savages?”
His word choice causes me to shoot a glare his direction. “Or, like a loving family as opposed to segregated individuals awaiting their turn to be called for jury duty.”
Harrison damn near spits out the mouth full of whiskey he has.
“Every family dynamic is different,” Brooklyn states with so much poise it pushes me back into my seat. “And, that’s alright. How you do or do not raise your family is your choice. You do what you believe is best for them or in their best interests.”
“I honestly don’t mind them in the other room,” April says on a drunken smirk.
“Of course, you don’t,” I mutter just loud enough for my future wife to hear.
“Tell us more about you,” Father slowly starts in a clipped tone, “and your family.” A server strolls around to place a wedge salad in front of him first. “What do your parents do for a living?”
“My mother works at a bank in the mortgage lending department while my father teaches civil war and Greek mythology courses at the community college.”
His hum of disapproval causes the discomfort I’m feeling to sink deeper.
“And, you?” His salad fork finds its way to his hand. “What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a lifeguard chief.”
“Ooo,” Mother coos after her first bite, “what a fun hobby! I’m sure that’s why Scott likes you.”
“Loves,” the correction is swiftly off my tongue, although the rest of the ugliness in her statement isn’t given adequate time to be addressed due to my father speaking again.
“You still have the job of an adolescent this late into adulthood?”
Brooklyn’s jaw lowers in preparation to politely counter but is cut off.
“Is that the appeal of marrying someone like my surfboard-loving son? Someone who has the means to take care of you, so that you don’t have to grow up and endure the true hardships of finding, starting, and nursing a lucrative career?”
“Father!”
“Is that how you manipulated your way into his life?”
Her attention drifts away from him to the untouched plate directly in front of her.
“Stalked him from your beach chair in your…little tiny bikini…and then preyed on his inability to turn down a pair of nice tits that look good in the ocean?”
“How fucking dare you talk to her that way!” I bark, although it falls on uncaring ears.
“Is that the long con you’re running young lady?”
“Father!”
“Perhaps get pregnant and have an endless financial connection in which you will exploit him for money for years to come once the high of the beach and appeal of your…exotic nature wears off?”
My volume increases to room shaking levels. “Stop!”
“Have him erase your debts and your family’s debts by dipping into his Trust Fund and-”
“Stop badgering my fucking fiancée!”
“She has yet to answer even one of my questions!”
“You mean meritless accusations!”
“Whiskey,” Harrison’s request barely cuts in in the background. “Just…to the top of the glass. Or, hell, just get me a bigger glass and fill that to the top.”
“Answer the questions, Miss Headley!” Father shouts at the same time he rises to his feet, palms planted firmly on the table.
My stare shifts to Brooklyn as my mouth moves to tell her she doesn’t have to say a word only to see her eyes shut and head tilted in such a way I know exactly what’s happening. I place my hand tenderly on her thigh and prepare to do everything possible to calm the sea of stress she’s dying in.
Unfortunately, my father roars again, “What are you? Suddenly deaf?!”
“Enough!”
“Answer me!”
She slowly lifts her head in spite of the tear that’s trickling down her cheek. Her slightly trembling frame angles itself to better face him prior to her retorting, “No, sir. I am not deaf, although I do struggle from a medical condition in which I do