After he’s departed my father strikes up the first conversation of the evening. “So, Amber, what are you studying?”
“I’m majoring in psychology,” she replies.
“Why that field?” My mother inhales a hearty sip of wine, her venomous glare pounding into my girlfriend as she places her glass on the table.
“I grew up under really bad circumstances, and now that I’ve somewhat found a way out, I want to help others like me.”
My mother’s brows raise. “And what difference do you think you can make to people who’ve experienced real tragedy? Sometimes you can’t help those who’ve lost everything.”
“That’s not necessarily true,” Amber states, her voice thoughtful though her eyes are anything but. They’re narrowed, a snake ready to attack. “You have to want help in order for it to work. I’m sure there are plenty of people who want their lives to be different.” She pauses, her attention unwavering from my mother’s. “Coming from someone who’s seen, felt, and tasted real tragedy, I know I want my life to change for the better. Sometimes it’s just hard to accept help from those who’ve never been through anything themselves. Hence my wanting to guide others like me toward a mentally healthy existence.”
My mother lets out an exhausted sigh, her eyes rolling as she finishes off the wine lingering at the bottom of her glass.
“I think that’s great, Amber,” Brittany chirps, breaking the tension starting to thicken the air. “Helping people in need is a noteworthy job.”
“Agreed,” my dad concurs. “And what else do you do besides school? Are you working?”
Amber sits back, ease covering her posture. “Yes. I pull a few waitressing shifts a week at a seafood restaurant down in Riva.”
“And she makes good grades too.” Cathy’s warm voice reaches across the table. “You’re working, going to school, doing all the right things for your future. Mark and I are so proud of you.”
Amber smiles, her face flushing from the compliment.
Intent on adding to her noticeable embarrassment, I feather a finger over the arch of her cheek. “Yeah, she’s a great girl. I’m one lucky man.” Amber turns toward me, her eyes heating by the second. “Not only is she smart and responsible as all hell, she’s also ridiculously cute.”
A full flush runs the path of her skin, her lips twitching in a soft smile as she clears her throat. “You’ve raised a very smooth talker, Mr. Cunningham. He’s never short on strategically timed endearments.”
My father nods at Amber, seemingly amused by her statement. “Oh, he’s a very smooth talker. There’s little doubt about that.” His eyes flash to mine, clearly insinuating just how smooth I must be to have snowed these people into thinking I was a decent human being.
I look down at my drink, effectively put in place by the self-righteous asshole. Lucky for me, Cathy and Mark don’t pick up on his little dig and continue to chatter away with Amber and Brit about the local touristy shit they want to check out.
I just wanna check the fuck outta here.
We’re interrupted when a waiter enters the room with appetizers in hand. Drinks are refilled, dinner orders taken. It’s in this moment I realize that Amber’s a natural around undercover lunatics, her face glowing with a comfortable easiness I have yet to see—one I can’t wait to be a part of. In the midst of watching my girl in action, I catch Mark striking up a conversation with my dad regarding what he does for a living. My father’s more than happy to tell him how fucking awesome he is, going on and on about the several back-pat-worthy achievements the self-appointed imperial asshole’s tackled throughout his lifetime.
Sickened by how high he is on himself, I finish off my whiskey in one large swallow, hoping to catch a decent buzz. A buzz strong enough to help get me through the rest of this night. Inwardly cringing, I yank my attention away from the blue-suited dick, only to have it land on his “better half.” Another cringe as I lace my fingers through Amber’s, trying to ignore my mother’s hateful stare pinning me to my seat. As long as she keeps her mouth shut, I couldn’t give a fuck how she looks at me. Still, I fidget in my chair under her silent scrutiny, unable to keep my mind from drifting off to the decent days we spent together before our lives fell apart, before my careless act changed what the future of my family was supposed to become.
Nervous movements catching his attention, Mark turns to me with a wide smile. “Amber tells us you’re quite the football star. How’s that working out for you?”
My stomach clenches at the topic as my eyes shift to my father. His face is sealed to mine, the dip in his brows showing he’s eagerly awaiting my response. I release Amber’s hand and tighten a fist under the table, knowing I haven’t been that dedicated to the sport the last couple of weeks.
“I don’t know about all that,” I answer with a chuckle, trying to keep my tone light. “It’s been a good season, though. We’ve had a couple scouts come by the field to watch us play. So who knows, right?”
My father’s expression betrays the calm soothing his voice. “I’m glad to hear that,” he says, pretending to not even register Mark’s start of a reply. “However, a business associate, whose son also plays for Hadley, informed me that you’ve missed several practices the last couple of weeks. I hope you have a decent excuse for that.”
“Of course he does.” My mother snorts, tipping her glass to her lips. “This is Brock we’re talking about, John.”