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“I’m sorry to disappoint you but I’ve never slept with a client and I’m not going to cheat on David so you’ll have to get your celebrity porn from someone else.” That much I can guarantee with absolute certainty. I’m a lot of things but I am not a cheater like these entitled athletes I’m paid to rebrand.
“Is David coming tonight?” Aria asks.
“I don’t know, he said he might have to work late.” I don’t want to get into this, too, with Aria. We don’t have much time left before I leave and I don’t want to spend it arguing with her about David, who she has never liked.
“But it’s your going away dinner,” she sits up on the bed and looks at me disapprovingly.
I’m aware that it’s my going away dinner at my parent’s house and it would seem reasonable to expect my boyfriend to be there and not cite work as an excuse, especially since he works for my father, but it’s… complicated.
“I’m glad you’re going to be there, though” I smile at my obnoxious bestie. I really will miss her.
“Duh, I’m not leaving you alone with those sharks.”
???
We arrive at my parent’s Upper East Side townhouse as late as I could manage without getting reprimanded. I don’t want to be here longer than absolutely necessary.
My sister’s pristine white BMW and my brother’s sleek black Mercedes are parked on the street so they’re here already. Aria and I, we circled the block for half an hour then finally found a place to park her ten-year-old Toyota Corolla which is still a step up from my car. Which is no car at all. Because normal people do not need cars in New York City. Aria only has it because it was left to her when her grandmother died and she trades the building super personal training sessions for free parking.
“Let’s get it over with,” Aria slaps my thigh and we make our way past the manicured potted hedges and enter the double-wide white doors.
I hate this Georgian nightmare home.
“Darling,” Mom calls as she greets us in the foyer and gives me a kiss on the cheek. Lydia Mitchell is dressed to the nines even though this is just a family dinner. Nothing is more important than appearances to Mom.
She has a new little white dog in her arms that is yipping and wiggling about at the commotion and I think it may have peed a little on her white Chanel, which pleases me.
“Aria,” Mom’s voice drops an octave and she plasters a fake smile on to greet my oldest friend, “don’t you both look lovely. Come in, your brother and sister are in the sitting room.”
The foyer is mint green this month and there’s a new abstract modern art piece on the wall which sums up Lydia’s sense of style and decorating sense. If it’s expensive, it must be good. It doesn’t matter that it defies logic and looks ridiculous amongst the gold plated mirrors and chairs that are for looking at, not for sitting in.
“Hey hey, there’s our little English muffin!” My brother, Cody, leaps to greet me when we enter the gaudy sitting room. Who needs a room just for sitting?
He’s got a tumbler full of cognac in one hand because he’s also a prepared person like I am — I pre-gamed this little shindig, even — and he wraps his free hand around me and pulls me into his side. “So proud of you,” he whispers into my hair as he kisses my head.
I knew I could count on him to say it, anyway.
He gives Aria a big bear hug and musses up the long hair she had piled neatly on the top of her head. I always hoped Cody and Aria would get together but it’s never happened and both feigned repulsion whenever I brought it up in the past. I think they doth protest too much, but alas.
“Girls, nice to see you,” Dad greets us from a tall leather chair next to a plush settee, which also looks wildly out of place in the room. “Join us for a cognac?” He asks.
“Yes,” Aria and I both answer in unison.
“I got it, Dad,” Cody tells him so he doesn’t need to get up, and sets to filling tumblers for us from the glass bar cart. My father, the distinguished Robert Mitchell, is used to people waiting on him.
My sister, Emma, is sitting in the settee next to Dad but doesn’t bother to glance up from her phone. Her wine glass sits empty on the coffee table in front of her. Looks like everyone is on top of their coping mechanisms this evening.
“Dinner will be in ten,” Mom sing songs back into the room and sits on the armrest of dad’s chair, new little dog still in tow.
“Oh Mallory,” Dad says, “David won’t able to join us this evening. He sends his regrets but deadlines wait for no man.”
Aria sighs and I swallow down my first gulp of cognac, which is disgusting but gets the job done.
It’s not enough for David to miss my send off but he calls my father to let me know. Mom and Dad think we’ll be getting married soon and I’d like to tell them that the last time David even fucked me was three months ago. So I don’t see wedding bells or grandbabies in their near future.
Or ever.
“Make sure you make time to see him before you leave, Mallory. Leaving a man like David behind is a risk and you’ll want to give him something to remember you by, if you know what I mean.” Mom winks and Dad chuckles and puts a hand on her knee seductively.
