AllFreeNovel
Share Us
As I say that, I bring my hand to Kayla’s thigh. She’s sitting on my left, her social anxiety pouring from her like steam out of a kettle. She feels at odds with the people here, and I can’t blame her. I grew up in Cosa Nostra money, with flashy rich people who loved to show they were made men, but nothing prepares for Stoneview. The one percent is a truly different breed.
Jerome is twenty years older than Francine, but I guess when you have that much fuck-you money, you can afford to marry an old model.
Francine laughs politely. She’s sitting next to Kayla, and her husband is between me and her. Still, she finds a way to put her hand on mine resting on the table, and all I can feel is Kayla tensing next to me.
“So,” she says with fake excitement, tapping my hand before pulling hers back. “This wedding. We didn’t even know you were dating anyone, Nathan.”
It’s funny how among rich criminals who pretend to live a normal life, no one even bats an eye when you come back from four years in prison.
“It was very intimate,” I explain. “All we wanted was to tie the knot as quickly as possible. Right, darling?”
I squeeze her thigh under the table, and she nods. “Right,” she rasps.
“And where are you from, Kayla? I’ve not seen you in Stoneview before, have I?” Francine continues. It’s her role, after all. Her husband brings her so he can play up the façade of a casual dinner, and her boring conversations are a front while we sort out the details of our contract.
“Erm,” Kayla hesitates. “I’m from Silver Falls.”
“Oh, how lovely. The South Bank is so beautiful. It feels so…normal next to Stoneview, right? It’s good from time to time to step out of here and into the real world. How cute.”
Kayla’s jaw tightens, and her eyes dart down to her menu in front of her. “Yes,” she says stiffly. “Very cute.” And she doesn’t add that she isn’t even from the South Bank. Poor Francine would faint if she knew Kayla was from the North Shore of the falls.
“Oh, Jerome,” Francine squeaks excitedly, tapping her husband’s shoulder. “The oysters are back on the menu. Let’s order some for the whole table. Do you like oysters, Kayla?”
“Sure.” She nods, and I recognize the lie in her tone because it sounds exactly the same as her pretending she liked champagne.
It’s crazy how much you can learn about a person when you truly listen. When Kayla lies, her voice dips, her words shorten, and she meets your eyes with no shame whatsoever. The exact same way she’s meeting Francine’s right now.
“Let’s order two dozen for the table. How many is that each?” she asks her husband.
Jerome takes a second to think, but Kay’s voice cuts through his thoughts.
“Six,” she answers right away without a hint of a second thought.
“Right,” Jerome chuckles, confirming the number to his wife.
They talk among themselves, and I look at my pretty wife with a calculator inside her brain.
Her eyes squint as she looks at the menu, and I can’t seem to stop observing her. Jerome is saying something to me, but all I can focus on is her beautiful red lips mumbling to herself as she reads one item after the other, but what surprises me the most is when she repeats the same line three times before realizing she hasn’t moved on.
It’s all in the way her eyes move, in her frustrated huff, and how she then presses her index finger to the paper so she can keep going.
“What’s ercasgot?” she whispers, wide eyes looking up at me.
“Oh, sweetie.” Francine explodes in a haughty laugh, a hand held to her chest. “It’s escargot not ercasgot.” She laughs some more, finding herself hilarious.
Jerome heartedly joins in. “So you can count, but you can’t read, it seems.” His eyes shine with mockery as he gets his petty revenge because Kayla hurt his ego by calculating quicker than him.
Kayla’s eyes snap up, and I expect her to jump over the table and strangle Francine and Jerome one by one. I steady myself to stop her, but instead, I feel her leg trembling and notice the way her shoulders deflect. Her gaze falls over the words again, her brow furrowing in confusion.
Something in my heart fissures. I think I want her to lose it. I want her to grab Francine’s face and smash it against the table because this isn’t like her. I hate seeing her like this. Out of her element, unable to defend herself because she knows it’s not appropriate to punch a woman right now and that’s how she’s used to imposing herself.
“If you’ll excuse me. I need the bathroom.” Jerome stands up, still chuckling as he shakes his head. “Ercasgot. That’s a good one.”
I watch him leave, my hand caressing Kayla’s thigh and my eyes annihilating him from behind.
“They’re snails,” I tell her softly, still unable to take my eyes off Wynne. “The French have it wrong, if you ask me. It’s chewy and tasteless if not for the sauce.” My eyes go to Francine. “One could so easily choke on it.” I narrow my gaze at her, a silent threat.
Kayla catches the way I look at Francine, a small smile spreading on her face. “Would be a pity,” she adds. Feeling more secure, she shrugs. “We don’t really have snails in our diners on the North Shore.”
