by Regan Claire
When I turn off the engine I realize I’m a little nervous. It’s been a while since I went to a party, and back then I wasn’t going to meet new friends or to hang out. I was going to feed.
What if I lose control again and start feeding on everyone as I did at the bar? Except I wasn’t feeding yesterday, I was just… touching people with my powers? Why does that sound vaguely pervy?
Holy guacamole, maybe Eros is right. This is a bad idea. I shouldn’t be around a group of people—a large group of people by the number of cars here—when everything I know about my powers is changing in uncontrollable ways? I decide to put my key back in the ignition when I hear a rap on my window.
“You’re not having second thoughts, are you?” Smith asks me through my closed door.
I look up at him through the window. My powers have always stayed well under wraps when I’ve been around him. He’s normal, and I get to be normal when I’m around him. I just need to stay away from people like Rhys who seem to bring out the abnormal in me. Don’t think about him throwing people across a bar. Aren’t you supposed to surround yourself with the people you want to be like?
Well, I want to be normal, like Smith here, with his warm smile and gentle voice and his freaking plaid shirt—though maybe I’ll skip the plaid.
I finally open the car door. “Of course not,” I say, stepping out of the car. “So, whose place is this? Cora said her brother-in-law’s, but I don’t know who that is.”
“It’s my parents’ place. They do this sort of thing all the time, and pretty much everyone is welcome. A lot of the family will probably be here, and Cora.”
Knowing Cora will be here doesn’t quite ease the discomfort of knowing this is a family barbecue. Like, what are they going to think about Smith bringing a woman? Is this weird? I don’t even know if it is or not. My yardstick for comparison is quite distorted.
I’m fretting about this the entire time that Smith leads me around the house to the backyard, where the smell of cooking made my mouth water.
“There’s Cora,” Smith says. Thank goodness. I feel a lot better knowing someone else here. This way I’m not stuck clinging to Smith’s arm the entire day.
“I’m going to go say hi,” I tell him, eager to be with Cora before anyone assumes I’m a date.
“Okay, I’ll be over in a minute. I want to make sure they don’t need any help with the food.”
Cora is next to the cooler standing with two guys, and I realize I wasted my time fretting about the implications of coming to a family event as just a friend of Smith.
I should have remembered, and then fretted, about Smith’s step-father, because he is one of the two gentlemen, and I use that word loosely, standing with Cora. Before I can turn around and follow Smith wherever he’s going, Cora spots me and waves.
Great.
I plaster on a smile and make my way towards her. Man, I hope Theo doesn’t remember me from the club, because I really don’t feel like navigating the dangers of how we met. Nothing says “thanks for having me” like “your husband totally hit on me then left with another woman later that night.”
“I’m so glad you came!” Cora says once I’m close enough.
“Ah, April, right? My wife has been bragging that you’ve helped her have the highest sales season since she opened,” the man at Cora’s side says. He’s dark and handsome, and reaches out to hold Cora’s hand as I watch. How sweet.
“April, this is my husband Aidan, and you probably already know my brother-in-law,” she says, gesturing to Theo, who holds out a hand for me to shake.
Hold up. Theo is her brother-in-law? Why didn’t I know this? Does that make her Smith’s aunt? How does she know Theo and I have met? Did Theo tell her about us meeting?
“Cora, April is new to town. She might not be savvy about her local celebrities quite yet,” Theo says, still holding out a hand.
I have no idea what he’s talking about. Theo finally drops his hand, and I realize belatedly how rude that must have looked.
“April, excuse my brother. He’s under the mistaken assumption that giving people inaccurate weather advice on the television makes you a celebrity,” Aidan says.
Theo is a…weatherman?
I cover my mouth with my hand, and hope the laugh stays in.
“Isn’t there a Facebook group that’s basically fact-checking all your inaccurate statements?” Cora asks her brother-in-law.
“The creator of which is probably a middle-aged virgin jealous of my good fortune,” Theo says, though he’s not smiling anymore, so I think he might not be a fan of his anti-fan group.
“I’m sure you’re right, Theo,” Aidan says. Theo gives him a sharp look, obviously aware of the patronizing tone his brother used, and walks away.
“I wonder if he’s figured out that I started the group yet. It’s not like I used a fake account or anything,” Aidan says as soon as his brother is gone.
I start laughing. “You did not.”
“It’s good for him to be knocked down a few pegs now and then.”
Cora mouth is open. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! We’ve been laughing at those memes together for weeks now. You had me convinced Poe was behind it!”
Tears. There are actual tears coming out of my eyes from laughing so hard. “Oh my goodness, who’s Poe?”
“Our other brother. Actually, he’s the other admin. I’d introduce you, but he’s not here today.”
Cora is laughing now, too. “Theo is going to be spitting bolts when he finds out.”
“If he finds out—technology will be his downfall if he doesn’t learn to keep up. I swear the old man even has trouble texting. Last week I caught him trying to use our Echo, but he kept saying ‘Alexis’ instead and I had to intervene before he fried the speaker,” he said, cracking me up further. I have a hard time believing someone in our generation had such difficulty with such basic tech, but I guess no amount of stupidity was surprising when it came to Theo Thunderman: “Weatherman Extraordinaire.”
“You’re not still talking about that stupid group, are you?” Theo asks from behind me. I jump about twelve feet.
“No, we’re laughing about something else entirely,” Aidan says, while Cora and I share a look and start giggling.
“You’re supposed to be the older brother, aren’t you?” Theo asks, crossing his arms.
“Hey, you’re the self-appointed patriarch of this dysfunctional family,” Aidan shrugs.
Theo glares at his brother with eyes that certainly weren’t always a stormy grey. We stop laughing.
“I wonder if they need help with the food,” Cora says, and takes that incredibly awkward moment to take her leave. Now it’s just me and these two men I don’t know, who apparently are having some sort of mean conversation with their eyes. Well, Theo certainly is. Aidan looks unconcerned, though he is matching his brother’s unblinking stare.
Theo suddenly turns his attention to me.
“By the way, April. I think it’s best if we don’t mention that little incident the other night, right? My wife can be the jealous type and I don’t want to upset her over a silly misunderstanding.”
Like hell it was. I don’t say that though, because my boss’s husband is standing right here, and this is family, and I don’t want to lose my job over family drama that isn’t even mine.
I give him my own stern look, because no one ever got fired for a look. “Mention what, again?”
He stares me down, then nods his head. “That’s a good girl. It’s so good to see you again, April. I hope to get the chance to see much more of you in the future,” he says, sending shivers of grossness down my arms.
“You wish,” I say under my breath. Theo either doesn’t hear me or doesn’t care, because he’s already walking away.
Aidan smiles, and it’s the first one I’ve seen on him. Man takes stoic to another level. “It’s good to see that some things never change.” He nods at me, sorta like he’s tipping an invisible hat except w
ith no accompanying hand motion.
Some things never change? So he’s aware that his brother is a total cad? I feel bad for Smith’s mom if this sort of thing is an open secret, even if only among brothers. Is Aidan like that too? Infidelity is… I don’t know, yuck. I’m all for consenting adults doing…consensual things, but if you’re in a relationship and your partner isn’t aware of the side action, then all parties aren’t consenting.
Luckily Smith comes up before I put my foot in my mouth and say something rude to Aidan.
“Sorry that took so long. The flames weren’t quite hot enough,” Smith says while shaking Aidan’s hand.
“Good to see you, Smith. Thank you for plying my wife with absurd statues for our yard.”
“She’s one of my best customers.” Smith smiles. “Where is your better half?”
“Cora and Theo just left,” I say.
“Oh good, you met Theo. Now you just have to meet my mom,” he says, putting an arm around me. My earlier reservations, or panic, return and I take a small side step to put more space between us. Smith’s arm drops between us with the bigger distance, and I hope it wasn’t painfully obvious what I was trying to do. I don’t want to come off as mean, but boundaries.
Aidan is looking at me, like he not only caught the entire interaction, but also the thoughts in my head.
“So what were you two talking about?” Smith asks, keeping his distance this time.
“I was just telling April how some things never change,” he says, looking me in the eye with raised eyebrows. For some reason, I don’t think he’s talking about Theo anymore.
I think he’s talking about me.
My peripherals show that Smith has shifted his balance, and looking at him I see that his easygoing demeanor is gone.
“I’m not sure I agree, Aidoneus,” Smith says, calling Aidan a different name. Though, if that was my birth name, I’d go by Aidan too. It’s clear Smith is upset about something, I just have no idea what.
“It’s Aidan now, Smith. April, it was lovely to see you, but I really must go track down Cora.” Aidan nods his head at me, then leaves.
Smith is looking at me, as if he’s looking for something. There’s something about his gaze that makes me feel guilty, like I’m supposed to be giving him something, but I don’t know what it is.
Needs a Reality Check
“Let’s go greet the hostess,” he says, and because I still feel that weird sense of guilt, I link my arm through his while he leads me to the other side of the yard. My touch on his arm seems to help ease the tension he got from talking to Aidan, though I don’t understand what was behind their words that made him upset in the first place.
Smith leads me across the backyard, where a woman is sitting in a lawn chair in the shade of a ginormous tree. There are a few other people sitting or standing around her, as if in attendance to a queen. She looks incredibly familiar, but I can’t place where I’ve seen her before. Certainly she isn’t Smith’s mother, because she’s way too young to have children my age. There’s a flash of something in her large brown eyes when she sees me. Those same eyes drop to where I’m holding onto Smith’s arm and they narrow. Maybe she’s a protective cousin, or an ex-girlfriend.
I drop his arm like it’s a hot potato.
“Mother, it’s good to see you.” Smith leans down and gives the woman a kiss on her cheek. Her mouth tightens. “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine. This is April. April, this is my mom, June.”
It’s not the first time I’ve been wrong. I wonder what her skin-care routine is, because the woman looks good. Maybe Smith is younger than he looks, too? It would explain the puppy-dog impression I get of him.
I reach a hand out to shake. I know I’ve seen her somewhere before.
“It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for having me.”
“So you’re here with my son?” she asks.
“Uh, yes. I’m new in town and he thought it would be good to meet some new people. I work for Cora,” I added. Maybe mentioning I knew someone else there would make it seem less like a date, because I don’t think Smith’s mom is overly fond of the idea of my being a date.
Not that I am.
“So you’re here as friends. That’s good.” Some of the glacial vibes I’m getting wear off, at least the ones directed at me. She smiles, and looks at her son. It’s not a very nice smile though. If she smiled at me like that, I’d probably cry.
Smith isn’t crying, but his eyes are averted.
“Would you like something to drink, Mother?” he asks her.
“I already have one coming,” she says. This woman is ice cold.
Suddenly, June’s face relaxes. “And here it is.”
Smith and I both turn to see whom she’s greeting and my mouth drops to the floor.
“Sorry it took so long, Mom. I was catching up with Uncle Aidan,” says a voice that is all too familiar.
“That’s okay, darling. I knew you didn’t forget me. Your brother brought a friend to the party. Isn’t that nice?” she says, but Rhys is already all too aware of my presence. If he’s surprised to see me here, it doesn’t show.
“I’m glad you were able to come, April. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you to explain about yesterday.”
June smiles. “So you’re already acquainted. Good.”
Everything about her is different. Her posture is more relaxed, her voice full of warmth. Smith, on the other hand, is the opposite of the relaxed guy I know. I can almost feel heat coming from him, he seems so angry.
“Wait, you two are brothers?” I ask. Oh, noodles. This is not okay.
“Half brothers,” Smith corrects.
“April, about yesterday…”
“What are you even doing here, Rhys?” Smith asks before Rhys can finish his sentence.
“When my mother asks me to come over, I come, regardless of the company present,” Rhys says. I almost expect to feel the same current of violence I felt yesterday at the bar, but I don’t. Sounds like there is some pretty bad blood between the two.
“Theo won’t like it that you’re at his house,” Smith says.
“This is my house too, Smith,” June says, with the same emphasis on his name that Aidan used earlier, “and if my husband has a problem with our son being here, it’s not any of your business.”
That was so cold it burned.
“I uh…excuse me, I need to freshen up.”
Coming here was a bad idea. A really terrible, horrible idea.
“Of course. The restroom is inside, straight across the room when you walk in the back door,” June says. She doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that I’m clearly running away from the awkwardness.
Both men look like they want to follow me, and I don’t know if it’s June’s presence or if they can tell I’m trying to escape them, but they both stay put when I leave. I walk briskly to the house, thoughts swarming in my head.
Rhys and Smith are brothers. Theo is…Rhys’s father? Is the fountain of youth located in their backyard or something?
But Theo and Rhys don’t seem to like each other. And who is Smith’s father?
I know that southern families are complicated, but I didn’t expect this. And how gross is it that the father of the guy I’ve been making out with has hit on me? Why didn’t Rhys say something at the bar? They were acting more like semi-enemies than father and son.
I walk inside the house and make a beeline for the door on the other side of the room. The half bath is larger than most full-size bathrooms I’ve been in and resembles a single-stall version of the type of bathroom you’d find in a hotel lobby. There’s a little therapy couch in the corner, and the marble sink is under a huge gold-framed mirror. I take a moment, reapply a layer of sunscreen to my face, and take my time thinking through what I need to do.
Leave. That’s what I need to do. I’ll just go make my excuses and go home. Thank goodness I drove separately. I pull out my phone and text Eros to tell him I’m leaving early.
I think Eros will be able to explain the weird family drama I’ve found myself the center of. And who the heck is June? Because I know I’ve seen her before, except the image of her I keep getting is with eyes that are silently raging. She doesn’t seem angry today. She isn’t exactly nice, at least not to Smith, but that’s a far cry from raging.
I leave the bathroom, glad no one is waiting for me to finish because I took a long time for not actually using the toilet, not that you can explain that to a line of people or anything. I look around the room while I head back to the door, impressed by the opulent decor. Theo and June are doing quite well for themselves, though I personally wouldn’t use so much gold in my interior decorating. There’s even a giant golden chair, centered on the little stretch of wall that’s in between the two large patio doors leading outside. It’s a bit ostentatious.
It’s also a bit familiar.
Not a bit familiar; it’s incredibly familiar. My heart is thudding in my ears. This is the throne from my dream, and suddenly I remember where I’ve seen June before. From my dream. Her eyes were raging because she’d been stuck in this thing for ages.
How could I have a dream about things I’ve never seen before? About a person I’ve never seen before? About a life that couldn’t have been real?
My breath is uneven. Someone walks in, but I can’t look away from the chair. I’m trying to convince myself that I’m mistaken. That this isn’t the same one from the dream.
“I was coming to check on you, to make sure you’re okay,” June says, standing beside me. “Ah, the chair. I hate this thing. I tried to have it melted down, but nothing my dear son has crafted can be so easily unmade. My husband likes to keep it out where I can see it, to remind me of my humiliation.”
I look at her. My vision is a tunnel. I don’t understand.
“I suppose this chair would be detestable to you, too. It ended up shackling you as effectively as it did me.”