She raises her hands in the air and gives me a big smile. I shake my head and cross the landing to the top of the grand staircase. I have to get out of here before Melanie comes out and this conversation goes from weird to too-awkward-to-come-back-from.
Downstairs, the event is in full swing and the dance floor is packed. Somewhere down there are the rest of my siblings and half my firehouse. Dad’s probably at the bar by now, and Mom is probably bored out of her mind. They only really came for Jack, my older brother, who’s receiving an award tonight.
I make my way down the stairs and find the bar area. Seated in the middle, barely fitting on one of the barstools, is my father, Roy. He’s a tall SOB—taller than any of his children—with broad shoulders and an intimidating smile. He’s half-turned toward my mother, Janet, towering over her and listening as she speaks. He could be there listening to her yap for hours, and still he wouldn’t complain. It’s a terrifying example they’ve set that I have yet to see recreated. He practically worships the ground she walks on. As he should. My mom kicks ass.
Nobody’s ever been in love like Mom and Dad are. They fought tooth and nail to be together and don’t take each other for granted. I thought it was all bullshit—that instant pull Mom talks about feeling the moment she met Dad. I’ve never felt it with Lydia, and as far as I know, Jack never felt it with Theresa. The closest I’ve heard is Bailey talking about kissing Rae for the first time. They couldn’t stand each other when they first met, but eventually that hate turned into something solid and real.
“Hey, you,” I shout as I approach. Dad’s head jerks around at the sound of my voice. Mom turns on her stool and stops talking when she sees me. A smile lights up her entire face as she waves me over. I give her the same smile I did when I was twelve and busted her kitchen window with a baseball. “This guy bothering you?”
Mom whispers something to Dad that makes him roll his eyes. She’s probably telling him how handsome I look—which I do—but the old man is kind of tired of hearing her go on and on about how attractive her kids are. Don’t know why. I’m not tired of hearing it.
“Son,” Dad says and raises his glass of whiskey—it’s the only thing he drinks—and then tosses it back. He taps the polished-wood bar top and signals to the bartender for a refill. “Tell me your night’s more interesting than mine.”
“Met a crazy blonde in the men’s room. She’s hot,” I say with a nod. Both Mom and Dad just give me a blank look like they think I’m shitting them.
“Speaking of crazy, where’s Lydia?”
“Mom,” I say in warning. I don’t know why. Lydia is crazy. We all know it, so it’s not like I have some kind of defense.
“Cut the crap, kid. The woman is nuts,” Dad says. His dark blond hair started graying years ago and is now a salt-and-pepper color. I’ve never seen a single gray hair on Mom’s head, though I know it’s not genetics that keeps it that way.
“If I have a thing for crazy chicks, it’s your fault,” I say to him and hook my thumb Mom’s direction as I walk away. I love those two, but they’re like a vortex—they’ll suck you right in for hours if you let them. Weaving through the crowd, across the room toward the stage where Jack will receive his award, I resolve to find Lydia. Not that I really want to, but she’s going to annoy me well into tomorrow with her bullshit if I don’t pay some attention to her at this thing. She’s probably pissed that I ditched her earlier, but I had to piss. And fuck—I still haven’t done that. Shit. Maybe I should just find a plant and water the fucking thing . . .
Melanie.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Melanie coming down the stairs with Royal at her side. Melanie’s blonde hair is in a curly updo that takes a lot of work and is fun as shit to fuck up in bed. Her makeup is perfect, and as screwed up as it is, I’m pretty sure I’d find anything about her perfect right now. It’s not like I’m hard up for sex. I can and do get it on the regular. That’s the part of my relationship with Lydia that isn’t totally jacked. If I were going through a dry spell, I might understand my reaction to Melanie. Yeah, she’s hot and she’s my type—crazy as fuck—but there’s something else there that she showed me. If she hadn’t stopped me, I would probably still be in that bathroom, but by now I’d be buried deep inside of her. I’d be that guy I never thought I’d be, and even if Lydia is a bitch, no woman deserves that.
I kind of need to believe that you can be that guy even if you don’t want to be.