Time didn’t allow me to process anything more. We stepped into the main greeting foyer of the resort where my mother andfather stood waiting. They both had giant grins on their faces, directed at me.
Even at my parents age, my mom was just shy of her sixty-third birthday and my father close to sixty-six years old, they appeared an impressive force. My mom looked boardroom ready all the time. Sculpted hair, freshly applied makeup, and a business suit—a jacket and matching skirt. Barbie had nothing on the permanent arch in my mother’s feet. I’d never seen her without high heels on.
My father wore his usual bespoke suit, silk tie, and Italian loafers. As for the rest of my family, all but Collin were married with children. There were thirty-two of them in total. All miniature versions of my parents, looking at home in the most ornately decorated lobby I’d ever seen.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Dasham,” my father started toward me, wrapping a strong arm around my shoulders.
My mother came up beside me, smiling tenderly. My brows lowered in disbelief. The smile felt so real… I was truly unnerved.
“Happy birthday, son. You’ve made us proud,” my father said both loudly and boldly. My parents caged me in with their love. I reared back, giving an unsure glance past my parents to Collin. Probably not the best call. He stuck a finger down his throat in a gagging motion.
None of this made sense. I still had weeks to go before my birthday.
With my dad on one side and my mother on the other, they walked me across the marble tile entry and through the main doors of the resort. The valets stood on either side of the impressively large portico with the ocean churning its waves in the distance. The drive leading to the valet stand was blocked off.A shiny red Ferreri with a giant white bow on the windshield was parked between me and the ocean.
With a glance in either direction, I searched for who drove such a beauty even as my brain gave a blip in understanding.
No.My parents believed the first car needed to be a safe, yet expensive sedan. Usually in the BMW or Mercedes class. I, of course, had asked for something sporty and quick, but I never expected to receive it. I had only said it to get underneath my mother’s skin.
Under the arm of my father’s hand gripping my shoulder, we walked toward the car. The sun was bright, the sky clear, a gorgeous day that I barely recognized in my current state of stunned silence.
“You don’t have anything to say?” my father asked teasingly and dangled a key fob with two keys in front of me. My mother gave a cultured singsong laugh then a side hug as I took the offering.
“Go see,” she said happily.
My father kept me in his hold as he and I walked the distance to the driver’s side door. “I thought we were waiting until September,” I said lamely as he let go of me and opened the door. It was then I saw the photographer in the distance, snapping pictures.
“Don’t look over there,” my father guided quietly. “It’s staged. We’re pretending we don’t know they’re here.”
The excitement I did my best to rein in deflated. This was a setup. Some play to show strength, or wealth, or family first. Maybe all of the above. Most definitely a mighty flex of financial power, showing his strength to continue the legal battle for the expansion of the resort.
I looked over the top of the car to where my entire family stood watching. Joy’s brother, Jon, came jogging toward us.
“He’s twenty-one and going to ride with you to keep it legal,” my father said proudly, and whacked me on the back, packing in a solid punch. “Go.”
Whatever he saw on my face had laughter booming. He grabbed the bow while taking several steps backward, waving his hand in a motion to get me moving.
“Thanks, Dad,” I mumbled and tried to drop the blinders I’d been wearing for several days back in place. My opinions on the dishonesty and manipulation I’d watched happening for days had to stay at a distance. I had no control over any of this.
“Get in,” Jon called and opened the passenger side door.
Back in the moment, I decided if they let me keep the car, I was going to have a badass ride.
Where the outside was designed to be seen, the sleek interior, with butter soft Italian leather, spoke to the innermost primal guy inside me. My dream car. Everyone’s dream car. I dropped into the bucket seat as if it were crafted for my body.
The new car smell mixed with the fine scent of rich leather and ocean breeze, became my new favorite scent. My fingers reached for the dash as the prancing horse logo on the steering wheel had me making a promise to myself: To do whatever it took to always own a car like this.
“You’re damned lucky. This is badass,” Jon murmured in my same awe.
“I know. I’m not sure what I did to deserve it.” My hands roamed as far as I could reach on the dashboard.
“I do. Reservations have doubled. The reviews of the resort are changing. People are finally willing to risk the wrath of the picketers to stay here. The female teenage demographic that drives their parents’ spending, and decision making, don’t have a care about the hometown businesses. People magazine wants to interview you...”
I wrinkled my face at the horror of such an idea.
Jon’s tone rang with humor. “Everybody’s talking about you. Dasham’s so polite. Dasham’s such a hard worker. Dasham’s such a good-looking guy.”
