by D. R. Graham
BJ glances at me and then back at Chuck, probably trying to figure out what the apology was for. Saying sorry was a big step for Chuck, I can tell by his uncharacteristic discomfort. I want to accept his peace offering. Easton won’t be as forgiving, though, especially if Chuck is all talk and no action. He eventually turns around and checks my expression to see if we’re good. The cautious apprehension in his eyes sells the case that he’s genuinely sorry, but I’m not sure if it’s because he has nowhere else to live or if he actually feels bad for acting the way he did. Before I have a chance to respond, he spots the cash on the counter.
“What’s this?” He picks up the pile of hundreds and fans through the bills. “Lottery win? Proceeds of prostitution? Gambling?” Then it hits him like a bolt through his brain. His face breaks into a huge grin and he points at me accusingly. “Penetration?”
The vulgar word slams into my chest and literally makes me wince. My face and neck feel like they’ve turned blotchy and my pulse pounds in my ears.
He waves the money in front of my face. “Is this here because Havie dipped his wick in your wax? Rammed the cob in the corn hole? Lowered the anchor in the dinghy? Parked his rig in your garage?”
“Leave her alone, man,” BJ says as he snatches the cash away from Chuck.
Chuck laughs and hops up to sit on the counter. “Which orifice did he penetrate?”
“Shut up,” I say quietly as I stand and tuck the stool in.
“Ooh. The S word. Listen to little Miss Priss with the potty mouth. What’s wrong? You’re naughty enough to let him penetrate you but too delicate to talk about it afterwards?”
“Stop saying that word.”
“Which one? Penetrate?” He laughs again. Obviously his apology was only intended to secure his roommate status.
“It’s none of your business.”
“Yes it is. I have five hundred bucks coming my way too if Havie penetrated you.”
“You don’t live here anymore. He doesn’t owe you anything.”
Chuck’s mood flips like a switch. He hops off the counter and steps into my personal space to intimidate me. “If anyone needs to move out it’s you. Everything was fine before you got here.”
“Step off,” BJ warns him.
Chuck eases back but hostility still vibrates off him. “I’ve lived here three years. You’ve lived here three weeks. You slept with one of us, which goes against the roommate agreement. You need to go.”
I’m about to cry but suck back the humiliation, anger, and fear. Staring at him with a flat expression, I wait until my voice is steady enough to speak. “Easton and Bailey can decide which one of us needs to move out.”
He glances at BJ who, at this exact moment, doesn’t appear to hold a supportive vote for Chuck. After mumbling a completely offensive curse word, Chuck throws the entire carton of milk in the sink and it explodes. “Fine.” He points at me. “But you let Havie penetrate you, so if they kick me out, I want my five hundred bucks before I leave.”
A woman gasps behind me and I whip around. To my absolute horror my mom and dad are standing with Easton in the archway. Mom’s hand is clasped over her mouth. Dad’s face is creased and tomato-coloured. I have never seen him look so furious.
Easton points at Chuck. “Get out. Now.”
Chuck smiles and lifts his eyebrows at my parents in a fake nice-to-meet-you way, which nobody but him appreciates. Then he grabs a muffin off the plate on the counter before he walks down the hall. Once the front door shuts behind him, everyone turns to look at me.
“Hi,” I say through a trembling forced smile.
Dad clutches my elbow to escort me to the sliding door and out into the back yard. Mom follows behind us and closes the door, leaving Easton and BJ inside. Dad obviously wants to say something but based on the size of the vein bulging at his temple, he’s not calm enough yet.
“What in the world is going on?” Mom asks as she hugs me. “What is a Havie?”
Unfortunately, her embrace makes me emotional and I have to fight not to get choked up. It feels as if I’m regressing back to a twelve-year-old little girl who’s terrified to disappoint her parents. I can’t break down in front of my dad. “They were just joking around,” I say.
Neither of them buy my attempt to play it down, probably since I don’t buy it myself.
“You live with three men?” Mom asks, completely in shock.
“What are you doing here?” I ask to avoid answering her question and throw the focus back on them. “How did you even get my address?”
Dad sits down on a patio chair and rests his elbows on his knees like a basketball player who has to take a break on the bench because he’s about to pass out from exertion. “The bank called about your savings account and wanted to confirm the address change.”
“And you took that as an invitation to fly down here and barge in on me unannounced?” I snap.
“Della.” Mom rests her hand on my arm to try to settle me down. “We were concerned. We just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
I shake my head and pace next to the pool. It feels like I’m being sucked back into my old unwaveringly obedient and pleaser self. I need to stand up for myself. “I told you on the phone how I am. Have you forgotten that I’m an adult? I don’t need my mommy and daddy to check up on me. Thanks anyway.” Evidently, I don’t know how to stand up for myself without going on the offensive and sounding like a petulant teenager.
“Apparently you do need us to check on you.” Dad stands and gestures animatedly with his hands. “You’re living with three men and one of them was speaking to you in a disgusting manner and insinuating that you are some sort of prostitute. This living arrangement is unacceptable.”
“It’s not something you can control, Dad. I make my own choices. I pay my own rent.”
He inhales deeply and the tendons in his neck tighten, which makes me legitimately worried that I’m going to give him a heart attack or a stroke.
“Why did the one with lightning bolts in his hair say he wanted money?” Mom tries to sound compassionate, but her dismay is seeping through. “Oh, myshka, have they taken advantage of you, sexually?” she whispers.
I roll my eyes and sit on the patio chair, legs crossed and foot bouncing with frustration. Frustrated that they are treating me like I’m incompetent. But more frustrated that I’m essentially proving them right by having a hissy fit. “No. Nobody is taking advantage of me. It’s just a silly bet. I told you I was fine. That’s all you need to know. I can handle myself.”
Mom pulls up a chair next to me and places her palm on my knee. “One small girl is no match for three bulging men like that.”
“Easton and Bailey are complete gentlemen, who are both studying for their MBAs and take care of their families back home. Taylor is immature and rude, but he would never hurt me, and he’s moving out anyway.”
The sliding door opens and BJ steps out onto the patio with his arm extended towards my dad to shake his hand. “Sorry to interrupt. Bailey Jackson. Nice to meet you Mr. Koskov.” He rotates to his right and shakes my mom’s hand, too. “Mrs. Koskov. Welcome to California. Unfortunately, I have to head out to get some studying done but enjoy your visit. You’ve got a great daughter here.” He smiles and then gives a little wave before stepping back inside.
Easton obviously already met them outside when they arrived, which is why they ended up landing right in the middle of Chuck’s tirade. Easton makes eye contact with me through the window as if to ask what I want him to do next. I’m not sure. It’s definitely not the right time to introduce him as my boyfriend. But if they got to know him they would be less worried. Mom would instantly like him. Dad, not so much.
Before I have a chance to decide how to handle things, Dad says, “I’m very disappointed in you, Della. Let’s go, Polina.” Then he disappears into the house.
Ouch. The word disappointed coming from my dad is the equivalent of stepping off a curb and getting blindsided by a bus. He’s only s
aid it to me one other time in my life, when I was sent to the headmaster’s office in the eighth grade for skipping school with some older students who smoked weed and then got caught shoplifting. I didn’t try the pot and went back to the school by myself when they decided to go into the shop, so I didn’t get suspended, but I still haven’t recovered from my dad telling me he was disappointed.
Mom watches him leave but doesn’t get up to follow. She ardently studies my expression. “Are you happy, sweetheart?”
“I was until my parents showed up unannounced, trying to tell me how to live my life. And embarrassed me in front of my roommates.”
“I’m sorry about that. You’re right. We should have called first.” She squeezes my hand. “But you don’t have to pretend everything is okay if it’s not. Don’t suffer just so you can stubbornly prove something to your father.”
“I’m not pretending or suffering. It’s a nice house. Easton and Bailey are really sweet. I can walk to school. My classes are interesting. And the weather is great. I love it here. I’m sorry that Dad is having a hard time accepting that I’ve grown up, but what am I supposed to do about that? I’m an adult, whether he likes it or not.”
She nods slowly and examines my face for any sign of unhappiness. If she’s paying attention, what she will notice is how ecstatically infatuated I am. Not that me falling in love for the first time would be any less concerning for her, but I’m probably the happiest I’ve ever been. “Okay. You do seem fine. And other than the one with the lightning bolts, the boys do seem decent enough. Just be careful.” She pats my arm. “We’re staying in a hotel not far from your school for the week. Why don’t we give your dad the day to calm down, then we can meet up later?”
Glad to postpone everything for long enough to come up with a game plan, I agree. “Okay.” I stand and give her a hug. “I’ll call you later.”
I walk her to the front door and watch as she gets into the rental car. She waves as they drive away, but Dad doesn’t even look at me. Which really isn’t fair. He came in with a preconceived notion that I wasn’t safe, and he wasn’t open to changing his mind. Chuck didn’t exactly help with that first impression, but still, my own parents should have faith in my ability to judge a person’s character and make good decisions. They should trust me.
And I should probably act like an adult if I want them to treat me like one.
Easton steps up behind me and circles his arms around to hug me. “You okay?” he whispers into my hair.
I shake my head as the frustrated tears that I’ve been holding back since Chuck showed up swell to the surface.
Chapter 14
Easton
Della’s parents have been in California for a week. They spent the last two days in San Francisco and are back in town for one more night before they fly home to Vancouver tomorrow. She invited me to dinner with them at a high-end Italian place, but she told me right up front that she didn’t think the timing was right to tell them about us dating. It takes some of the pressure off, but I still want to make a good impression. I don’t want them to be disappointed when she does eventually tell them about us.
Della coached me beforehand to let me know that her dad is interested in sports, but I’ve tried everything, including tennis and Nascar. He hasn’t given any conversation starter much more than a brief answer. If Della didn’t seem so desperate to change his mood, I’d just accept that he’s naturally quiet and not worry about trying to engage with him. It’s obvious by her nervous sideways glances and excessive serviette folding that she wants him to like me, so I keep trying. It’s not until I ask him about his sailing hobby that he finally becomes more engaged.
Her mom warmed up to me earlier this week when I took them on a tour of the campus. She’s a lot like Della, actually. Funny and sweet, and she’s knocked over the salt shaker with her elbow three times since we sat down at the table. She already knows a lot about me – the important stuff, except how my mom died. And she’s as curious about rodeo as Della is.
Mr. Koskov notices when I do things like pull the chair out for Della, and I’m sure he’s judging my character based on things like how I address the waiter. He’s also been watching how Della touches my arm when she’s talking. Even though he hasn’t asked any questions, Mrs. Koskov has been firing them at me, and he listens intently to all my answers as if I’m being evaluated at an interview. Although I’m nailing the interview, he’s acting as if he had someone different in mind for the job. Good thing Della is in charge of hiring for the position.
Della shoves my shoulder playfully. “Is it all right if I tell them about how you used to model for Stuart under an alias?”
I chuckle. “You just did.”
“I know.” Her eyebrows dance up and down. “Did you like how I did that? I’m so crafty.”
I nod and smile as she tells the story of how she thought she was moving in with three women. When she gets to the cockroach and bed bug part, her dad’s demeanor changes. Maybe because she’s hilarious when she tells stories, or maybe because she’s proving to him that she really can handle herself. He actually chuckles at the part about cracking the alarm code and the failed touchdown dance.
Mrs. Koskov reaches over to give Della a hug and tips her water glass over in the process. “Oh shoot,” she says, just like Della always does, which makes me smile.
Her dad casually soaks up the spilled water as if it’s a second nature reflex that he doesn’t even have to think about because it happens so often. “So, Easton, AKA Everley, where do you plan on settling down after you finish your degree?”
Della’s eyes pop open in a mixture of excitement because her dad finally addressed me in conversation, and apprehension for exactly the same reason.
“My family owns a cattle ranch a few hours from here, near Three Rivers.”
He nods, but his expression gives no clue to what he thinks of that. It’s possible he asked simply to make friendly conversation but given the fact it’s the only thing he’s directly asked me all week, I’m going to assume he’s worried there’s a risk Della might never move back home.
Mrs. Koskov studies her husband for a second, then she glances at Della, who physically deflates from her dad pointing out the biggest glitch in any plans we might want to make in the future. Her mom’s face lights up as she puts the pieces together, and she says, “Well, Easton, if you ask me, you are very fortunate to have property here. I love California. It reminds me of the south of France.” She places her hand on her husband’s arm. “When the girls were young we spent the entire summer in Corsica. It was so beautiful and relaxing. Do you remember how much we loved it there, darling?”
He nods and takes a sip of wine.
She faces me and says, “We’ve always had dreams of retiring there. Who knew California is basically the same thing? And it’s only a two-hour flight from Vancouver.”
“American food doesn’t compare, not even close,” Mr. Koskov mumbles in a grumpy protest.
“Pfft.” Mrs. Koskov flaps her hand at him and rolls her eyes hilariously. “You cleared your giant plate of American food just fine. And living in Europe would mean being at least a ten-hour flight away from both the girls and any other grandbabies that might arrive in the future.” She points at Della in a cautionary way. “Not from you, yet. I meant your sister having more kids. You need to finish school first.”
Mr. Koskov inhales sharply as if the thought of his baby Della having kids one day literally makes his chest hurt.
Della’s eyelids flutter in rapid blinks almost like she’s having a seizure or something. In her defense it is too much to process. We just started dating. I reach under the table and squeeze her leg, which does seem to calm her. She places her hand over mine and laces our fingers together for the rest of the meal.
When the waiter drops off the bill, I reach for it and say, “I’ve got it.”
Mr. Koskov shakes his head in protest and hands a stack of cash directly to the waiter.
I d
on’t want to argue with him, so I simply say, “Thank you.”
“Yes. Thank you for dinner.” Della stands and hugs her dad. “And although I was slow to warm up to the idea, thank you for coming down to visit.”
He stands and kisses her forehead, helps her with her jacket, then stretches his arm across her shoulder to walk her out. I pull the chair out for her mom and she fires off a few more interview questions as I escort her to the foyer. The questions are all geared towards determining the suitability of a suitor, so if she doesn’t already know that Della and I are dating, she suspects it’s a possibility.
Della and her mom head to the restroom together, leaving her dad and me to stand outside the restaurant as we wait. As soon as we’re alone he says, “When we first arrived, I was interested by the tone you took with the obnoxious roommate with the ridiculous haircut.”
I nod, not sure where he’s going with the comment.
“You defended Della without hesitation. Am I correct to assume the nature of your relationship with my daughter is more than just roommates?”
I nod again. There’s no point in denying it. The last thing I want is to come across as a liar. “Yes, sir. That’s correct.”
After a hesitation that leaves sweat dripping down my traps he says “Well, she seems happy.” He reaches over and shakes my hand. “Make sure she stays that way.”
I nod again, and he walks away to go get the rental.
All right. That was huge. Della and her mom join me and they both seem curious to know why I’m grinning. Della reaches over and quickly squeezes my hand to signal that she’s happy things went well. Mr. Koskov pulls up to the curb with the rental car while Della hugs her mom again.
“We’ll call before we show up next time.” She turns and rests her hand on my arm. “Nice meeting you, Easton.” Her voice lowers as she adds, “You two make a really beautiful couple.”
“Mom,” Della protests.
Her mom kisses both her cheeks. “Don’t sound so shocked. You two aren’t fooling anyone.” She glances over her shoulder at Mr. Koskov. “Your father approves, too, so don’t let him tell you otherwise.”