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I let her serve herself first before I dumped the food onto my plate, slices of juicy chicken with the golden pieces of potatoes. When I had my first bite, I nodded in appreciation. “You can fuck…you can cook…what else can you do?”
She smirked as she looked at me. “Well, I didn’t do much of the fucking…”
“You’ll get your chance, Pretty.”
Her smart eyes studied me. “You’re really going to call me that?”
All I did was stare.
“I guess that’s a yes.” She took a bite of her food.
We descended into tense silence, both of us eating as we stared at each other across the table. There was still a little light out of the window, the sky a beautiful combination of gentle colors. It blanketed her face in the most exquisite glow.
“So…how was your day?”
I shrugged. “Same old shit.”
“What does that mean?”
“Work never sleeps.”
“You never take a day off?”
I shook my head. “Too busy for that.”
“So all you do is work?” she asked.
“Other than drink and fuck, yes.”
“My father doesn’t work like that.”
“He does,” I said. “You just don’t realize it. Even if he’s sitting there at dinner with you, he’s thinking about a bunch of other shit in his mind.” Just as I was doing that very moment, ignoring the emails and texts that vibrated my phone in my pocket.
“He seems present to me.”
Because he was a two-faced psychopath. “You two are close.”
“You aren’t close with your parents?”
My parents wished I’d never been born. “No.”
A memory seemed to come back to her because her eyes deepened. “I remember you mentioning that now.” Then there was pity, a deep wave of it.
“Don’t feel sorry for me. I hate that shit.”
“It’s called empathy.”
“Whatever,” I snapped. “I don’t want it.”
“What happened with your parents?” she asked gently, her voice tiptoeing around me.
I hesitated before I answered, choosing to focus on the savory meal she’d made. My eyes were down, thinking of the best way to phrase it and keep it veiled. “They disowned me.”
“Why?” she asked.
This was the most open conversation we’d ever had, but I wanted her to be open, not me. “They’re assholes. I’ll leave it at that.”
It was clear she wanted to press me further, but she allowed me to dismiss it. “I’m sorry.”
