Page 7 of Lost King

"Hey, sweetheart," my dad greets me as he walks down the stairs. "You should have called me to come to pick you up," he chastises, kissing me on my cheek.

"I took a taxi, it was no bother. Where's Mom?"

"She's in the kitchen finishing up dinner. She insisted on cooking."

"Okay, I'm going to go say hi."

"Tell your mom I'll be in my office. I need to make a few calls before dinner."

"Will do," I say over my shoulder as I make my way to the kitchen. I can already smell the roast cooking before I even enter the room. I love my mom's cooking. No matter how busy her and Dad were, she always made time to cook Easton and I home cooked meals at least four days a week. "Hey Mom, something smells good," I sing-song pushing my way through the double doors of the kitchen and see my mom pulling a large pan from the oven.

"Emerson, how long have you been here? Why didn't you call your father to come to pick you up?"

"I only just got here, and like I told Dad, I took a taxi. It was no biggie." My mom huffs and gives me a look, but doesn't say anymore. "You want me to help with anything?"

"No, I have dinner covered. Why don't you go on upstairs and get cleaned up? Dinner will be ready in an hour."

"Okay," I say as my mom walks around the island and gives me a warm hug.

"I'm glad you decided to come home for the weekend."

"Me too, Mom. I'll be back down after I freshen up." On the way up to my room, I breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe this visit will be different. Maybe I can visit my parents without my mother trying to shove another date down my throat or her telling me I need to leave Polson and come back home to Seattle. Once I make it into my old room, I decide to take a shower since I didn't have time to take one after my last shift. After I've finished, I change into a pair of black jeans and a red long sleeve silk blouse. I made sure to choose an outfit that covers my tattoos since my parents have never seen them. I decided to keep them covered, so I don't have to add my ink to the already long list of things they don't approve of. I got my first tattoo while in college. My tattoo covers my entire hip and runs up my side. I chose a peacock because a peacock is a possessor of some of the most admired human characteristics and is a symbol of integrity and the beauty we can achieve when we choose to show our true colors. That is what I aspire to do one day. I want to be brave enough to show my true colors. I also started a sleeve on my left arm, hence the reason for a long sleeve shirt.

As I'm about to walk out of my bedroom door I get a text. Opening my phone, I see it's from my brother.

East: What's up?

Me: Hold. Sending pic.

Holding my cell out in front of me, I snap a picture of myself with my childhood bed behind me and press send.

East: Good luck with that.

Me Thanks. I'll need it. Where are you?

East: Miami. It's hot as balls here. Houston tomorrow. I found out from my manager today we'll be in Missoula in a couple of weeks.

I squeal and do a tiny dance of joy at the news. Missoula is a little more than an hour from Polson. I haven't seen my brother in months.

Me: This is the best news! I can't wait to see you.

East: Our next show won't be for three days after the one in Missoula. I can stay for a day before heading out. I have to go. I'll call later with the details. Love you.

Me: Can't wait! Love you too.

My brother's news comes at the perfect time. I needed a pick-me-up and my Easton fix. This is the longest we have ever gone without seeing each other, and the facetimes are few and far between. This tour though has been something he and his band worked so hard to get, and they deserve it. Hearing the doorbell chime brings me out of my thoughts, and I instantly feel irritation and dread settle in the pit of my stomach. I should have known this visit would not be any different. Squaring my shoulders, I walk out of my room and downstairs to see who my parents have invited to dinner. When I descend the last step, my insides fill with rage when I look at who is standing just inside the front door of my parent's home. My mother is the first to notice my presence.

"Emerson, sweetheart. You remember Phillip and Beth Stewart and their son Parker. Didn't you two go to prom together?" My mother asks.

Not taking my heated disgusted stare off Parker, I answer, "we did."

The whole time Parker smiles at me as if I have forgotten that night.

"You look good, Emerson," he says with a fake smile still plastered on his face.

"I know," is my only response. I can tell by the irritated look on my mother's face she is not pleased by my behavior. I can't bring myself to give a shit.

"Why don't we all go sit in the dining room. We don't want our dinner to get cold," my mother suggests trying to diffuse the current tense and awkward moment.