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“I was in good hands,” she says. She glances over at me, and I seriously want to crawl into a hole and die with the look her father’s currently giving me.Nice way to slowly work me into the conversation like we talked about on the airplane, Brinley. I can only imagine what her dad’s thinking right now. I’m sure it’s not every day his daughter turns up with a muscular guy, covered in tattoos, and a haircut that looks all kinds of fucked up outside the New York City limits.
He eyes me cautiously over Brinley’s shoulder as he hugs his daughter, and with just one look of warning from this guy, I feel like climbing back into the car and speeding off again.
I suppose he’s only doing his job, but his youngest daughter turns up to a family function with some punk who claims to earn a living from some rock band he’s most likely never even heard of before, and his job just got a whole lot harder.
Brinley’s just about to introduce me to her father when a pint-sized woman with dark hair and red-framed glasses comes barreling out of the house and practically tackles Brinley to the ground. A bear hug would be an adequate description. She wraps her arms around her, rocking back and forth, and she’s crying the sort of tears that make a lump form in my throat.
“Mom, Dad… this is Reed,” says Brinley, holding her arm out in my general direction. “These are my parents, Jean and Grant.”
Her mother releases Brinley, and I probably look like a complete idiot because I don’t move at first. I just stand there staring back at the woman, and it takes me a few seconds to register what I’m looking at.
Brinley’s mother looks to be about midfifties.
She’s very petite. She’s very attractive.
She’s also very… Asian.
“Oh, Brinley, you didn’t!” squeals her mother.
Her father breaks out into a big hearty belly laugh, and Brinley high-fives him, wiping the tears from her eyes because she’s laughing that hard.
“She used to think it was hilarious when she was a child,” says her mom. “She loves the look of utter confusion on people’s faces when she introduces me for the first time.”
Color me clueless. I’m totally lost right now.
“Grant and I are Brinley’s adoptive parents,” she explains. “Same with Mia. We were blessed with two of the most beautiful girls in the world, and I couldn’t be more proud of either one of them.”
“Classic,” says Brinley, still trying to catch her breath.
“You’re so much taller than you look on the television,” says her father.
“Yeah, I guess. Thanks for having me. I really appreciate it.”
“It’s our pleasure.” His voice is gravelly and rough, and I recognize it as a man who’s smoked a few cigars in his time. “Any friend of Brinley’s is a friend of ours.”
The dude puts way too much emphasis on the wordfriend, and through his tone, I read him loud and clear. He’s marking his territory and making sure I know my place.
“Dad,” Brinley warns with an uncomfortable laugh.
“Please, come in,” insists Jean, heading toward the front steps. “Where’s your sister? Mia!” she yells loudly. “Mia! Come and help the kids with their bags.”
Kids?
“That’s not necessary, honestly,” I say, waving her away. I don’t need anyone’s help. We only have one bag each, and they weigh next to nothing. “I really appreciate you having me stay, especially on such short notice.”
“No trouble at all. We’ve been so busy with the wedding preparations, it will be a nice distraction to have someone new at the dinner table with something else to offer to the conversation other than bonbonnieres and croquembouche.”
“I have no idea what you just said.”
She burst out laughing. “Good! I’ve made meatloaf and mashed potatoes for dinner. I hope that’s alright with you.”
“That sounds amazing.”
We all kick off our shoes at the front door, and I follow the others into the living room. The furniture is old-fashioned, but it’s in good condition and clean, and I can tell it’s been well taken care of over the years.
“I hope you’re hungry, Reed,” says Jean.
She walks into the kitchen, and we all follow her.
