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“The marriage can’t be contested.”
He turns to me and brushes something off my shoulder. He looks different since Dad’s death, more serious. Older. But then his eyes meet mine, and he gives me a wink. “I have a feeling in this crowd, you’ll get a few pats on the back for it.”
“For what?” our mother asks, her heels clicking. “Where is your wife, darling?”
Dr. Cummings follows her, and I still don’t like the look of him. He sets his hand on her lower back.
“She is indisposed, Mother,” Caius says.
She looks at him then at me. “What do you mean? They’ll expect to see her.”
“Tell them she can’t walk after a good, long fuc—”
“Hush your mouth,” Mom snaps at Caius, who gives her an innocent what did I say look.
“It’s fine,” I say. “Excuse us,” I tell Cummings and take my mother’s elbow. “Shall we?” I gesture toward the head table. “We don’t owe anyone an explanation.” Once we reach it, I stand behind my seat as the room falls silent. I take the microphone one of the staff offers me. “Welcome, one and all. We’re happy to have you with us to celebrate this precious day,” I almost choke on the words. Caius snorts. “Sadly, my wife was… unable to join us this evening.”
“Well done!” a man calls out from the back of the room and there’s laughter. Idiots. The only one not laughing is Odin, whose eye I catch. He’s at one of the front tables beside his father, who is possibly too drunk to follow what I’m saying.
“I invite you to eat and drink to your heart’s content.” I set the microphone aside and take my seat. Mom slides into Madelena’s empty chair so I’m flanked by my family, the weight of responsibility heavy. Suffocating. I miss my dad at times like this.
“Well done, darling,” she says and fills a champagne flute for me. I don’t touch it. The three of us watch the people of Avarice return to their conversations as wine flows, and waiters serve lobster and steak. How I hate them all, these pretenders, with their pleasant conversation and their money and their status and their posturing.
The waiter places our plates in front of us. I tell him to send a tray up to the suite for Madelena. Caius picks up his knife and fork and slices into his bloody steak.
“Eat, Santos,” Mom says. “They’re watching even if they pretend they’re not.” She smiles at someone at a table across the way. “We’re not there yet, remember.”
“Give him a minute, Mom,” Caius says. “He’s done his duty.”
“We don’t have a minute,” Mom snaps, and this close, I see through the brightness of her smile. “On to phase two, Santos,” she says, expression never changing. Sometimes, I think she is more predatory than my father was, even though she may be subtler. He cared less about being accepted and more about having those around him know who he was—not that she cares what these people think. My mother’s goals are different than my father’s were. She wants a seat at the table. He wanted to own the damn table.
Phase two. I shake my head, tempted to ask for a whiskey. She talks like this is some top-secret mission. I guess to her, it is.
“We need to cement our place,” she goes on.
“We are, Mother,” I say. “Give it a rest for one night.”
“She has birth control pills,” she tells me as she pops a bite of steak into her mouth and chews as if we’re discussing the weather. She uses her napkin to dab at the corner of her mouth.
“Did you go through her things?” I ask.
“Of course I did.”
“Did you take them?”
She swallows, then smirks.
“Where are they?” I ask.
“In my purse.”
“Hand them over.”
“Why?” she asks.
“Because I think she might notice if her birth control pills are missing.”
“That doesn’t matter. She’s ours. She does what we say.”
