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17
MIRANDA
It had been a beautiful day. Lachlan had taken great care when teaching me to surf. And although I knew I would never make a good surfer, it was still fun.
But things got a little weird after that.
We were sitting at the island in the kitchen, snacking on dips, chips, and all kinds of delicious treats, when a woman joined us, teetering in the highest heels I’d ever seen.
Resembling a sheet of silk, her blond hair sat motionless on her shoulders. Her skintight dress barely covered her butt, which, like her breasts, resembled two distended balls.
I noticed Lachlan’s face tense when she entered, which made me wonder if they’d had sex. And she devoured him with her eyes. But as soon as her heavily made-up eyes met mine, she went stony.
“Oh, you’re here,” she said in a prickly tone.
“I do live here,” Lachlan said. “This is my girlfriend, Miranda.” He turned to me. “This is my stepmother.”
She scanned up and down my body. “Tamara’s the name.”
Then Manuel ran in and stiffened when he saw his mother, but he went to Lachlan and hugged him in a touching moment. Tamara’s face soured. My heart went out to the boy. She was so inconceivably cold to her beautiful son my heart broke.
“How dare you take him to dance classes with that witch.”
I was about to rise when Lachlan took my hand.
The nanny walked in, also appearing a little fidgety. “Um… there’s a concert tomorrow.”
“What kind of concert?” Tamara asked, pouring a glass of wine.
The nanny looked at Lachlan before answering. She was older than I was and very plain in a down-to-earth way, which I appreciated.
Another glamour-puss sauntering about would have been unbearable.
Tamara and Britney owned that title. They even smelled alike, as though they’d been dipped in a lake of cosmetics.
“This is Sherry.” Lachlan gestured to the nanny. “And this is Miranda, my girlfriend.”
He smiled sweetly at me, and my spirit soared. I could never tire of hearing myself described as his girlfriend.
Tamara’s face, however, remained blank, and returning her attention to Lachlan, she said, “I don’t want him dancing. I don’t want him becoming a fag.”
Manuel’s big dark eyes shone with emotion.
“Do you like going there?” Lachlan asked Manuel.
He stood against Lachlan’s thigh, and with his little finger on his lip, he nodded. The way he looked up to Lachlan for protection and support was so touching that I nearly cried.
“Are you going to deny him that?” Lachlan asked Tamara. “You’re hardly ever here, anyway.”
As Sherry snuck off, Tamara said, “I haven’t finished with you.”
The poor girl returned and plonked down in a chair.
Lachlan had his arm around Manuel. “So you’re performing tomorrow?”
Manuel nodded, looking down at his feet, as if avoiding his mother’s glowering attention.
“A word,” Tamara said to Sherry, who meekly nodded and followed her mistress out of the room.
