“Dad,” I say. Mom joins him and gives me a big hug.
“I was hoping Natasha wasn’t playing one of her little jokes. Here you are.” Mom’s arms dig into me, and I can barely breathe through the cloud of Chanel No. 5. She holds me at arm’s length and her eyes shine with tears. I’m not completely fooled by the show. Mom’s always been good at shifting her emotions; it’s how she gets us to do things. “My family, together again.”
Tasha salutes me with her glass from across the room. She motions a straight line up and down her front and gives me thumbs up.
Mom beams like its Christmas morning. She threads her arm through mine and steers me toward the dining room. It’s like she’s holding me prisoner, afraid I might run away again. If only she knew how true that statement was, she’d shackle me to the dining room table.
The dining room is just as cold and desolate as I remember it. Even the floral arrangements feel like they just came out of the deep freeze.
“Now Cassius, please tell me you’ve found someone to settle down with and start giving me grandbabies.”
I want to spit out my drink, but that would give away too much. No way am I letting my mother sink her talons into Savannah.
Although the image does cross my mind of Savannah with a baby on her hip. Blond curls and tiny—no. I stop the thought before I get too attached. Who am I turning into?
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Shame. You know the other day, I was just having lunch with Janice at the club. You remember Janice, don’t you?” No, and I try to remember very little from my time spent at her club. “Janice Dockson? You went to school with their daughter Morgan—lovely girl. I ran into her mother the other day and we started chatting. Did you know Morgan isn’t seeing anyone as well?”
“I’m not going on a date with Morgan Dockson.” I wouldn’t even consider it, especially not now.
“No of course not, but it would be a step in the right direction. Maybe just drinks. You could invite her to the grand opening of your new club. It would be so nice to have you associating with your peers again.”
My hands are on the table ready to push myself back when Tasha’s shoe connects with my shin. Her look across the table says not on your life.
“I actually have seen Morgan recently. She came to my club the other night celebrating a bachelorette party.”
“Aurelia Bishop’s—tacky as hell. If I was her mother, I would not have attended.”
“Mom,” Tasha says. “It was a nice wedding.”
“Oh it was nice, but really Cassius, promise me when you get married you’ll let me help. We could hold it at the club, or here on the property. Flowers that are subtle and but dignified. And not a single sequin on your bride’s dress. Pearls, and lace…”
Her words go on, but I just can’t force myself to listen. Torn between images of Savannah in a wedding dress—or better yet, Savannah on our wedding night. Jesus Christ, where are these thoughts coming from?
My parents act as if everything is normal. I guess, for them, it is. They do this every weeknight—Mom always made sure of it. Lives have fallen apart around them, and they just don’t seem to care. It’s like nothing ever happened.
“He’s not dating anyone mom, try not to shove him down the aisle because you have bride fever. Isn’t that right, Cash?” Another foot to the shin and I have to pay attention.
“Absolutely, Tash,” I say.
She toasts me with her glass only to find it empty. “Cash, would you be a wonderful brother and possibly make me a drink?”
“Did you become twenty-one in the last five minutes?”
“Mom.” Tasha tries to appeal my decision.
“It’s just here, Cassius—what’s the harm in letting her have a drink. Be a dear and go make her a fresh drink, please.”
“Yes, and he can show off his wasted talent,” my father adds. That’s just what I need to push me over the edge. I push myself back from the table and motion for Tasha to follow me.
My parents will never change, and so I head back into the den where they keep the good liquor. It’s been this way since I used to steal bottles back in school. I grab the bourbon and shaker and start going to work.
“I figured we both needed a break,” Tasha says, dropping onto a couch and pulling out her phone.
“What are the chances that we could make a break for it?”
“You’d have to agree to go on a date with Morgan Dockson in order to be let back into the house.”
“I can’t date Morgan,” I say. That was the wrong thing to say around Tasha. Her back straightens and she turns towards me with a predatory look in her eye.
“Cash, are you seeing someone?”
“No.”
“Too fast, brother dear. Who is she?”
I finish the drink and hand it to her. Tasha takes a huge gulp and nearly chokes at the straight bourbon tamed with a bit of mint and sugar.
“Are you trying to kill me?” Tasha demands, holding the drink out like it’s a miniature axe murderer.
“Mint Juleps are a sipping drink.”