Dark Redemption - Charlotte Byrd Page 0,38

it takes a little bit for my eyes to adjust, but when they do I see a woman in an exquisite white suit and high heels standing with her arms crossed in front of her and one foot out just a foot away from us.

"Mom, what are you doing here?" Dante sits up straight and I quickly jump out of his lap.

I cover myself up, adjusting my panties and my bra at the same time.

I thought that his mother would turn around but she stands there, unwavering, watching every little bit of our humiliation. Dante buckles his pants but remains seated.

"What are you doing here, Mom?" he asks again, his voice full off insolence.

He doesn't seem to be as shocked by her presence, more like annoyed while I'm petrified.

Her hair falls to about just below her ears. She's slim and statuesque with manicured nails and a Birkin bag draped over one arm.

"Are you going to introduce me to your friend?" she asks.

"Yes, of course."

Dante stands up and tucks in his shirt. It takes him a few minutes, but he doesn't hurry.

He makes us both wait.

"I'm Jacqueline," I say when the tension becomes insurmountable. I extend my hand, but instead of shaking it, she looks me up and down.

"Okay. Jacqueline, it's usually customary to introduce yourself with a first and last name."

She talks to me like I imagine a teacher in a boarding school does with very little interest in making friends or being friendly for that matter.

"I'm Jacqueline Archer," I say, still with my hand extended, suddenly realizing how awkward it is to be in this position.

When I start to pull away, she finally shakes my hand. Her fingers are warm and soft, the palms of her hands are impossibly delicate.

"My bags are in the car," she says to Dante, "please help me with them."

And by help me, she means that Dante has to get them.

Dante and I exchange a brief look where I peer at him spreading my arms out, trying to figure out what I'm supposed to do now.

“Jacqueline, come with me. Let's have a drink," she says, waving me over to the kitchen.

I swallow hard, not wanting to follow her. I feel like I'm about to get a dressing down, but I don't have much of a choice.

Dante nods to me as if to tell me that it's going to be okay, but the situation is dire. There's no way it can be okay.

While he disappears down the steps to retrieve her bags from the trunk, I follow behind the clicking of her heels and I feel like I'm being led to the principal's office after doing something very bad.

In the bright light of the kitchen, I glance at my reflection in the stainless steel refrigerator and adjust my hair, which is all lopsided and infused with absolutely too much volume on the left.

"You look fine," Dante's mother says, and I realize that I don't actually know what I'm supposed to call her.

Adele?

Mrs. Langston?

Something else altogether?

"Can I offer you something to drink?" I say when she turns around at the kitchen island to face me.

And I realize that I'm the one that's supposed to participate in the hosting duties even though technically, she owns the deed to the house.

"Yes, I'd like to have a cocktail."

I swallow hard.

I don't actually know how to make cocktails, but maybe she'd request something simple, like a club soda.

"Elderberry vodka on the rocks."

I nod and make my way over to the bar in the other corner of the dining room.

There's no way they're going to have elderberries here, right? I say to myself.

Do I put in mint? Cocktails are all about different levels of acidity and sweetness and that's what makes them taste so good.

"I don't know how to make you that," I finally admit, even though I don't know why I first went through the charade of actually looking through the liquor cabinet.

"Okay, fine, I'll have a mojito," she says, waving her hand at me and putting her Birkin bag on the recently shined quartz island.

I decide not to go through the theatrics of trying to prepare a mojito that if I don't do it correctly, I know will be sent back.

"I'm sorry, I don't actually know how to make a mojito either," I admit.

I expect her to challenge me and maybe even say something disparaging, but she just throws her hand up in the air and says, "Oh, well, why didn't you just tell me? Come here, I'll show you