by Q. T. Ruby
I laugh as they sit around me. “Yeah, I know. It’s overwhelming sometimes.”
“Is that why I peed my pants a little?” Ashley says, laughing.
“And that accent—God, he doesn’t even need to have that face to go along with it,” Lindsay says, swooning.
“Is he nice? He seems nice,” Shannon says, leaning forward with her smiling face resting on her fist.
“Yeah, surprisingly, he’s a really great guy.”
“I can’t believe your brothers never said anything! Did no one know which Dan in the world he was?”
“My parents knew, and I’m sure they didn’t advertise it since they’re not that thrilled, to be honest.”
“Why not? He’s hot, talented, and nice—I call that a trifecta!” Shannon high-fives me.
“You know how my parents are with me.” I shrug at the constant uphill battle.
All three of them sit back and nod in agreement. “Well, I for one, am slightly more excited for family gatherings now. Not to fangirl all over your boyfriend or anything, but wow!” Lindsay adds, fanning herself.
“Your mom seems fine, so whatever reservations she had, well, maybe they’re gone now that she’s met him,” Ashley says.
“And can we please talk about your new career?” Lindsay asks. “You’re having quite a year!”
“It’s been insane, but I can’t complain! If you’d told me a year ago I’d be dating Dan Chase and have switched careers, I would’ve laughed at you. Guess I’ve learned to prepare for the unexpected!”
“I’m really happy for you,” Shannon says, smiling and reaching over to hug me.
“Thank you.”
“We should probably make sure the guys are being nice—well, Paul anyway. He can be so overprotective with you,” Lindsay says.
We all stand and make our way into the kitchen again. Dan’s still standing with the guys, and they all look quite serious. What’s going on?
I’m just about to rescue him when my mother announces, “Dinner’s ready! Let’s say grace!” The kids stampede into the kitchen, and we circle up to hold hands for grace before we begin to fill our plates with the amazing buffet my mother prepared. If nothing else, my mother is a fantastic cook.
The adults are seated in the dining room, which is attached to the kitchen by a wide doorway that allows the parents to keep an eye on their kids who are sitting at the kitchen table.
My father’s at the head of the long table, my mother is to his right, I’m to his left, and Dan is beside me. My brothers and their wives are paired up around the rest of the table.
It’s a juicy, flavorful pot roast with roasted potatoes and veggies, and it’s predictably amazing. There’s freshly baked bread and wine being passed around, too. The conversations are light and enjoyable, and I feel like I can finally breathe. Maybe today won’t be so bad.
But then . . . “So, Dan, how do you like acting?” my mother asks before taking a bite of potato. My heart sinks, realizing the game isn’t over. No, it’s just begun. I tense up again, and remind myself that Dan’s been asked rude things by rude people before, so I’m hoping—no, praying—she stays respectful. I sit on edge, not quite eating, but listening to the interview.
“I like it very much.”
“What do you like about it?” She’s smiling her non-smile.
“I really enjoy being a part of the storytelling process.”
“Storytelling. I have no doubt it’s your strong suit,” she says. Oh jeez! “Did you have any other aspirations growing up? To be anything else?”
Dan seems unfazed by her obnoxious comment.
“Honestly, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to be growing up. I’m sure I wanted to be a lot of different things, like a fireman or something, but I got involved in school plays and I realized I wanted to give it a go as a career.”
My mother nods her head and takes a bite to eat. Dan eats, too. I’ve barely touched my food. I wait, hoping her questioning is over, and when benign conversations continue around us, I relax a moment and shove a potato in my mouth.
“Did your parents ever worry about your success in your field?” my mother asks Dan.
She’s not done! I can hardly swallow the potato since my heart’s lodged in my throat. I notice the rest of the table is beginning to tune into the conversation on this end. I’m growing more uncomfortable by the moment. I wonder if Dan feels the negative energy, too . . . but he’s used to these kinds of questions.
“My parents are like most parents, I think. They’ve always been pretty supportive of my choices, just as I’m sure you’ve been of Claire’s.”
Oh shit! The gauntlet is on the floor! It’s on the floor!
My mother shifts in her seat; her eyes are boring into his skull as he casually cuts up his roast beef. “What do you think you might do if you couldn’t act? Do you have anything—a college degree, for instance—to fall back on in order to pay your bills?”
Oh God . . .
Dan smiles. “I don’t have an official university degree yet, but I do hope to pursue that in the future. Until then, I’m a very good saver, so my earnings should last me some time.” He takes another nonchalant bite of dinner, as if it’s no big deal that my mother is zeroing in for the kill. My foot is tapping fast.
My mom nods again, eating, but I see her wheels turning. She probably hates that he’s not squirming yet. I’m sure I’m squirming enough for both of us. “Have you worked with many famous actors?”
Dan nods and finishes chewing before answering. “Yeah, I’ve been quite lucky. It’s an amazing learning experience to work with people like Ben Hasty, Lyla Turner, Archer Hatch. Actually, I’m currently working with a few really seasoned, well-respected actors.”
I glance down and across the table, noticing everyone is listening now, and my sisters-in-law are smiling. I take a breath and a bite of meat to look like I’m doing more than just cringing over here.
“So you don’t mind your life being so up in the air? Having things so unreliable?” My mother’s chin is high and tight.
He gives her a polite grin. “No, I don’t mind. I try to allow God to guide me.”
I almost choke on the roast beef I managed to shove in my mouth. Dan’s never mentioned God before, except in the heat of passion, which this clearly is not. But he knows darn well that my parents want a good Italian, Catholic boy for me. And since he’s not Italian, he can at least play up the Catholic part. God, he’s good.
“You’re Catholic?” my mother asks with a suspicious eyebrow raised.
“Yes.”
“Do you attend church regularly?”
“I go as often as I can.” He does?
There’s an extended silence while we all eat and my mother thinks of more intrusive, uncomfortable questions because this is not over.
My mother continues the interrogation. “You said you get to work with some fine talent, but that also means with many young, beautiful co-stars, right? In fact, weren’t you just working with Sophie Miller? She’s really quite beautiful. Everyone in Hollywood, and I suspect the world, thinks she’s the standard of beauty. Wouldn’t you agree?” She smiles pleasantly.
That’s not a smile! That’s not a smile! And Sophie Miller—really mom? Ugh!
Dan chews; his eyes pinned on my mother, who hasn’t looked away. Clearly, with everyone listening, he has to be very careful how he answers. “Sophie’s an attractive actress, but I wouldn’t consider her the standard of beauty.” Stating it like a fact. Good idea.
“Then who would you consider the standard of beauty?”
“Claire Parelli.” His eyes shift to mine, and he smiles that smile at me. Two seats down, Shannon quietly whimpers.
I look back at my mother. Her eyes are slits. She doesn’t like to be shown up, not that I’ve ev
er seen her in that position, really. She licks her lips, purses them, and asks, “That’s very polite of you, Dan, but I’m sure it’s tempting, especially when you’re filming in some far-off, exotic land, acting in a love scene—things must naturally spill over after hours. It happens all the time.”
“Not if you’re a professional, and I consider myself, above all else, to be a professional.” His face is dead serious. I might even mistake it for pissed off.
“Are you saying you’ve never been affected by these beautiful actresses? Let’s be honest—you wouldn’t be human if you weren’t affected.” She takes a pre-victory bite of her dinner, staring at his face and waiting.
“In my honest opinion, there is more to ‘being affected’ than someone’s looks. I’ve known many actresses who are beautiful, yes, but are horrible people. That said, I’m most affected by women who play multiple musical instruments, are insanely smart and witty, and who look exactly like your daughter,” Dan says, staring right into Rita’s eyes. Holy shit . . . I’m blushing, and my hands are shaky because, wow, that was intense and unbelievably kind and sweet, even if I do wonder if he’s just saying that to prove a point. I glance over at Lindsay, Shannon, and Ashley, whose swooning is nearly audible. Or maybe that’s me.
“If it lasts,” my mother counters.
“It’ll last for as long as she’ll let it,” he says with a nod. “By the way, this is quite a delicious meal, Mrs. Parelli. Thank you again for having me over.” I glance down, unable to hide my smile. He’s killing her with kindness!
“Thank you,” my mom says, her eyes on her plate and her jaw tense. I can almost hear her inner fire-breathing dragon seething.
“Yes, it is quite delicious, honey,” my father says, which shifts both subject and mood, finally ending the standoff. For now. The rest of the evening passes without incident, and before I know it, we celebrate with cake, drink coffee, and open presents. Now I can leave and once again breathe freely in the car. We say our good-byes to my siblings and sisters-in-law and their kids.
I hug my dad who squeezes me tightly. “Drive safely, honey.”
“Bye, Mom,” I say tentatively, offering and receiving a hug.
“Happy birthday. I’m happy you were able to come home, Claire. I hope we can talk later this week.” She hands me a plate of leftovers. I have no doubt she’ll call to give me her detailed judgment report on Dan.
“Good-bye, Mr. Parelli.” Dan shakes his hand then turns to my mom. “Thank you both for having me today. It was a pleasure meeting you. I had a lovely time.” He holds out his hand to shake hers, but my mom pulls him into a distant hug. She whispers something to him.
We get in the car, and I turn to him. “Well, you made it. How are you?”
“I guess I did all right.” He shrugs, seemingly unaffected by the awkwardness of dinner.
“You guess?”
“Yes. I think I did well responding to your mom’s questions—”
“Yeah! Really well. What did my mom whisper to you right before we left?”
“She said she’s not sold on me.”
“Oh my God, how rude can she be? You were gracious and kind and looked great and were perfect as always and—”
“‘Perfect as always,’ eh?” I look over, and he’s all smiley and waggling his eyebrows at me and begins to stroke my leg.
I don’t want to smile, but I can’t help it. He’s too cute. “Yes. You always are, which is why I can’t understand her need to find something not to like.”
“Your sisters-in-law were lovely.”
“Yeah, they liked you. Surprised by you being you.”
“I didn’t notice. I was sort of preoccupied by your brothers.”
My face falls. “Why do you say that? What did they tell you? I swear—”
“No, nothing really. I’ll just be insuring my legs come Monday morning,” he says half-laughing, but plenty serious too.
“What? Why? I’m going to kill them.”
“They threatened to break my legs if I hurt you.”
“This shit has to stop. They’ve always been protective of me, but I’m an adult—and so are they—for God’s sake!” I grip the steering wheel harder.
“They don’t have ties to the mafia or anything, do they?”
I roll my eyes and huff. “No.”
He exhales in relief. “Okay, just making sure.”
I rant a little more, letting off steam. Dan just listens with a grin. “Clearly, this amuses you,” I finally say.
“You’re feisty. It’s hot,” he says with a playful growl.
I shake my head and can’t help but soften . . . until we’re parked and walking back to my apartment where a photographer is snapping pictures from across the street. I turn around, about to cross the street to smack the guy, when Dan snags my arm.
“No, no. This way.” He pulls me toward my building. We enter the apartment, and I need a drink now, which I announce to everyone. The five of us get ready and head to a small, neighborhood pub.
Shots are bought and tossed back, and soon I’m feeling their magically soothing effects.
“Better now?” Dan asks.
“Yes, much.”
Dan and Colin start talking together while Camille, Bridget, and I get caught up.
“So how was it?” Camille asks.
“Well, on the one hand, she didn’t give me the cold-shoulder like I expected; but on the other hand, she played twenty-questions with Dan during dinner while everyone listened.”
“Heavens to Mordor. Sounds uncomfortable,” Bridget says.
“‘Heavens to Mordor’?” Both Camille and I burst into laughter before I say, “You make me laugh, Bridget! Dinner was uncomfortable to say the least. She jabbed at his career and questioned if he screwed around on set with beautiful actresses, but his response was—I’m still blushing and wondering if I heard him right—but he said he likes me—exactly me—and that he’s in this until I no longer want to be.”
We share a collective, “Aww.”
“I bet that shut her down,” Bridget says.
“Yes, but I wonder if she’ll find ways to be even worse,” Camille says.
“Worse? How could she achieve that fine nirvana?” Bridget asks.
“She’s quite a creative person,” Camille responds.
“How’d your mom react to the flowers?” Bridget asks.
“They were for Avery, not my mom.”
“Wait. He gave your little five-year-old niece that huge bouquet?” Bridget asks.
“Uh-huh. It was so unexpected.”
“Go Dan!”
“But my brothers threatened him with violence, as usual.” I roll my eyes before reaching for my drink.
“You’d think they’d stop that nonsense,” Camille says.
“I know! Dan found my annoyance with them funny.”
“It sounds like it went well overall, you know, despite the verbal assaults and physical threats,” Bridget says, giggling.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Did he give you a present? Or is that tonight?” Bridget asks with a wink.
“Oh! I haven’t had a chance to tell you guys. Yes, he gave me his present already. He’s paid my university fees for the piano for a year! Can you believe that?” I glance at Mr. Beautiful, who’s in deep conversation with Colin, and feel overwhelmed at his kindness all over again.
“Practical,” Bridget says, sipping her drink.
“Practical and thoughtful,” Camille says. “Better than the stupid shit Mark used to give you, like tickets to a sporting event because it was something he wanted to go to.”
“Very true.” Bridget says, nodding.
“I wonder what’s got them all huddled up,” I say as we glance over at Dan and Colin.
“How’s it going with you and Colin?” I ask, turning to Camille.
“It’s really good. I mean, we’re both on the same page in terms of not seeing anyone else and neither of us wants anything too serious right now, so it’s all good.”
“I love you both, but it sucks being the fifth wheel,” Bridget says, taking a long drink.
I give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Dare I say it sounds like you actually want—gasp!—a relationship?”
Bridget shakes her head and smiles. “Well, you two make it look, I don’t know . . . fun?”
Camille and I crack up. “Someday, princess. Someday your prince will come,” Camille sings to her.
Colin pokes his head into our group. “Ready for another shot?” Colin hands a fresh round to us.
“Yes!” Bridget knocks hers back.
Before long, I’m leaning into Dan while everyone’s talking. Damn that soap-and-shaving-cream scent. I angle my head toward him to sniff him better. “Mmm . . . you smell so good.” I pucker my lips, making a few kissing noises at him, and he laughs at me. “Hey, what happened to us being friends?” Did I just slur my words?
He snorts. “What?”
I turn to fully face him. “You know. We”—I point between us—“were supposed to act like friends in public, but we kinda forgot about it pretty quickly. Like months ago.”
He smirks and leans into my ear. “Because I want to fuck you senseless most of the time, and it’s really fucking difficult enough to keep it respectful in public. So if you don’t like this”—he grabs my ass—”then too bad.” He kisses me hard in the middle of the bar, and I quickly forget anyone else is around. I press myself against him and rub myself on him all while our mouths are saying, “Screw friendship.”
“Um, hello!” Bridget yells at us, smacking my shoulder. We step apart, remembering that, yes, we are indeed in public. “Go home, you two. Jeez.”