Shame on Him

As I pull up the drive to their palatial brick home, I take a deep breath before getting out of my car. I seriously consider getting back inside and driving to the nearest Neiman Marcus to buy a suit. It’s not that I’m dressed unpleasantly; it’s just that I’m not dressed for dinner with my parents. My mother will undoubtedly have on a dress and pearls and my father will be wearing one of his usual black suits.

Staring down at myself, I know that what I’m wearing is perfectly fine: a pair of black leggings with brown, knee-high slouch boots, a tan-and-black-striped long-sleeved shirt, and a black infinity scarf. As soon as Paige picked out this outfit I knew I had to have it. It may seem like everyday wear for some, but it’s not something I have ever worn and I love it. My parents will definitely hate it.

Closing my eyes for a moment, I think about all of the reasons I want to be a private investigator. I think about how happy it makes me and how overjoyed I am that for the first time in my life, I look forward to waking up in the morning, knowing I’m going to do something exciting. I play these points on a continuous loop in my head as I walk toward the front door.

The rumbling of a car engine in the drive gives me pause. I turn to see a familiar black Mustang pull up behind my car and dread pools in my stomach.

I watch in horror as Dallas gets out of the car and saunters over to me. Even in my moment of despair I don’t miss the way he takes me in from head to toe. I have an unnatural urge to touch my wavy hair, which Paige carefully sprayed into place, to make sure it still looks good.

“Well, don’t you clean up nice,” he says with a lopsided smile.

“What are you doing here?” I respond, whipping my head around to the front door to make sure my parents aren’t standing there. If I’m lucky, they didn’t hear the reverberation of his muffler coming up the drive and have no idea I’m here yet.

“I’m sorry; I thought you said we would be working together now,” he tells me casually as he slides his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I swung by your place so we could have ourselves a little meeting, and when I saw you pulling out, I figured I’d follow you. I’m guessing you just failed to mention to me that you’d be meeting with Miles Harper tonight.”

Oh, my God, this is not happening right now. Of all the times for him to be pompous and cocky . . .

“I can see by the shocked expression on your face that you didn’t think I’d find out about Miles. Nice work blacking out his name on the e-mails, by the way, but I was able to figure out that information all on my own.”

Maybe if I jump in my car right now, I can just tell my parents I had a flat tire and won’t be able to make it to dinner.

“I didn’t feel like wasting my time looking up his address. Figured you could handle that for me and I could just follow you.” Dallas whistles appreciatively as he looks at the front of my parents’ home. “No wonder you’re a lawyer. Must be a pretty nice paycheck.”

Perfect. And now he thinks the only reason I’m a lawyer is because it pays well. Won’t he be surprised when he finds out I was bred for this job and further manipulated into it with years of guilt?

Wait, what am I saying? He’s not going to find that out because he needs to leave right now. I need to get him away from here before they see him.

“This isn’t Miles Harper’s home; it’s where my parents live! I’m here for dinner with them, not going behind your back to meet with Miles,” I tell him, throwing my arms up in irritation.

I leave out the part about how I was fully planning on finding Miles after dinner. I’m too livid at his audacity right now to deal with semantics.

“Lorelei, what on earth are you doing standing out in the driveway? Mrs. Cooper has already set out the first course.”

I freeze at the sound of my mother’s voice.

“I wish you would have told me you were bringing a guest,” she complains.

I watch her turn in the entryway, rushing back into the house, and know she’s left to complain to my father about having to set an extra place, even if she hasn’t set a table herself my entire life.

“Well, honey, what’s for dinner?” Dallas says with a smile as he brushes past me and heads into the house.



“So, Mr. Osborne, how did you meet Lorelei?”

I pause with my fork halfway to my mouth and try not to let the apprehension I’m feeling show. This is not how I wanted this evening to go. I was supposed to have a nice, quiet evening with my parents and then sit them down after dinner and calmly tell them my dreams for the future have changed.

Now, I’m stuck sitting across the table from Dallas.

“Well, sir, we work—”

My fork clatters onto the plate and I quickly interrupt him. “Actually, Dad, it’s nothing too exciting. We met at the courthouse.”

Dallas looks at me questioningly and I try to tell him with my eyes to please keep quiet and not ruin things for me.

“Lorelei, elbows off the table, please,” my father reprimands.

I do as he asks and squeeze my hands together in my lap.

“So, you’re an attorney then?” my father continues.