“We gotta chill on the heels, bae. Her feet always hurt. I don’t like that.”
“She’s dramatic, and she picked those heels out. But where are these seats? I need a drink.”
“Follow me,” my mother said, walking off to lead the way. We stepped around my father and found our seats.
We sat down at the table, and it was awkward, like I expected it would be. Cadence was giving my mother an earful, running down her almost seven years of life. My mom listened intently, and it was a sight to behold.
My pops stood, buttoned his jacket, and left the table. I followed.
The back bar was away from earshot of the table, and I wasted no time antagonizing the saddest, most pathetic man I ever met.
“You know what’s crazy?”
“Enlighten me, son.”
“You really ain’t shit.”
“Maybe. But I tried to protect you from being stuck with that girl. You never learn, son.”
“Learn what? How to be miserable? How to snake my own kin? What’s the lesson?”
“This is the lesson. That bitch makes you soft.”
I jacked him up and slammed him against the wall. I was so glad the lights were lowered, even though I didn’t care. If Cadence couldn’t see me mop the floor with him, I was fine.
“Watch your fuckin’ mouth. I’ve been letting you make it for a long time. That shit ends tonight. Respect my family, or else.”
“Or else what? Ducane, I’ve been three steps ahead of you this entire time, and it ain’t about hate. It’s about status. A status that comes from my name. A power you almost refused to tap into to follow behind a struggling college student, and now a flight attendant. Yes, I knew, and I’d do it again. Look at you. I made you.”
I hit him in his jaw and then his stomach. He grimaced and checked his mouth. I grabbed his jaw and made him look at me.
“Just to be, clear I hate you as much as you fuckin hate me. Be easy. I’ll see you real soon. And don’t forget to bring all that power you possess.”
I let him go. He straightened his jacket, unbothered, and walked back toward the ballroom without another word. A coward.
I stood there another second, flexing my hand, waiting for the part of me that used to feel guilty about shit like this to show up.
It never did.
When I made it back to the table, Skye was watching me, chin up, eyes steady, her gaze dropping to my hand once before it came back up to meet mine.
“Feel better?” she asked, low enough that only I could hear it over Cadence still going on to my mother about her tooth fairy money.
“Yeah.” I sat down next to her and reached for her hand under the table. “Better than I’ve been in years, actually.”
She studied me for another second, then laced her fingers through mine.
“Good,” she said simply. “He had it coming.”
I almost laughed. Almost.
“You saw that?”
“I saw enough.” She squeezed my hand once. “I told you I wasn’t gonna be surprised by anything you did to protect this family tonight. I meant it.”
Under the table, out of sight of my mother and my daughter and every last person in that room who thought they knew who Ducane Simmons was supposed to be, my wife brought my knuckles to her lips and kissed them, one at a time.
I’d spent thirty years trying to be the son my father could be proud of.
