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Of course, Casey. I'll pick you up at six. Just send me your address.
Just like that, I was in. I'd be joining the Cranes – Malcolm included – for dinner. He wouldn't be able to turn me away then, right? Nor would he be able to duck my questions. It was going to be tense and awkward, but it was unfortunately, necessary. It wasn't about me and my needs, or even about Malcolm and his needs. Not anymore.
~ooo000ooo~
Adam was at my door about fifteen minutes earlier than I'd expected. I was having second thoughts and had been seriously contemplating canceling the entire thing, but I still had no word back from Malcolm, and I couldn't handle the stress of waiting another day to see if he'd finally get back to me. We needed to talk, and he was being evasive.
He seemed to be too busy for me these days, and I was sick of sitting around and waiting for him to make time for me. Especially since I had something very important to tell him and needed to figure out what the next steps were going to be.
“Just have to throw on some shoes,” I said. “Feel free to come inside.”
I dug through Raya's shoe pile until I found a cute pair of kitten heels, which went perfectly with the strapless floral dress I'd borrowed from her as well. Having friends with money came with some added benefits sometimes – like being able to find nice clothes when you need to be presentable.
“No rush. Take your time,” Adam said, as he walked around the tiny studio, looking at everything. “Cute place you have here.”
“Thanks,” I said.
I didn't feel the need to explain that it wasn't actually my place. We weren't that close. Besides, if he thought I lived in WeHo, it might make him respect me a little bit more. Or at least, not look down on me as much. WeHo was the hip, bougie place to be these days.
I turned and saw him holding Raya's bong. He held it up and sniffed it before giving me a mischievous look.
“That's not mine,” I mumbled.
Though now, as I actually looked around the place, I noticed there were several bongs on shelves, along with other pot smoking paraphernalia. Damn, Raya. I knew she liked to smoke a joint now and then, but did she really need this much crap?
“Hey, it's legal now. Who am I to judge what a girl does in her own home?” he said, putting the funky blue bong back down on the coffee table with a laugh.
“No, but seriously, it's not mine. I don't do that, legal or not,” I muttered. “Nothing against it, it's just not my thing.”
“Sure, okay,” Adam said with a shrug. “I really don't give a shit if you smoke pot or not. We all have our secrets and vices. Even my brother.”
My ears perked up at the mention of Malcolm. As if he could read my mind, Adam chuckled and shook his head a bit. He looked up at me and seemed to be relishing the fact that he knew something I didn't. Or maybe, it was the fact that he could potentially destroy the image of Malcolm I carried around in my head with what he knew.
Either way, it was kind of greasy, and kind of a dick move. It made me like him even less than I already did. But, he was a means to an end, so I needed to play nice. For now, at least.
“You really don't know Malcolm that well, do you?” he asked.
“Not really,” I said.
“But you're sleeping together”
I stared at him, wide-eyed, and slack-jawed. “How did you – ”
“I didn't actually,” Adam said, smirking, with his hands buried deep into his pockets. “But I do now. God, you should see the look on your face right now.”
I closed my mouth and stood up tall. “I didn't say we were.”
“Oh, trust me, sweetheart, I couldn't care less if you're sleeping with Malcolm or not. I'm just surprised he moved on so fast,” he said. “You look like a nice enough girl though. Not really his usual type, but I can see the attraction.”
I wasn't sure if that was meant as a compliment or not. I didn't take it as one.
“Don't call me sweetheart,” I said. “I'm not a fan of pet names and we're not that close, Adam.”
“Oh, sorry, didn't mean to offend you,” Adam said.
He looked a lot like Malcolm standing there. I could definitely see the family resemblance. They had similar bone structure and everything. Adam was maybe a couple inches shorter, with different colored eyes, but you could tell they were related. Adam was dressed impeccably as well, just like his brother. Unlike Malcolm, however, I didn't like Adam. Not at all.
I sneered at him and considered telling him he could take his “sweetheart” and “nice enough girl” comments, shove them up his ass, and get the fuck out of my life. But, he was my only way in to see Malcolm, and to hopefully get some answers about the type of family environment my baby would be growing up in.
