Page 2 of A Date With the Devil

I turn around and bid Dr. Jacobs goodbye, then take my leave—my being here is just a disruption anyway.

Chapter two

A DATE WITH THE DEVIL.

TONY

WTF!!! What is he doing here?I thought people like him didn’t bother to attend such events; they just sent a butler or a porter with a check on a silver tray wearing pristine white gloves and tailcoats.

WTF. . . The devil himself has won me at this auction, thrusting us back into a world of mutual disdain. Can I say no? Can I object? Everybody in this room knows he killed my father. Surely, no one will hold it against me if I say no to this outcome—he killed my dad. He went to prison for it. WTF!!!

I run out of the hall, my heart pounding with a mix of fury and disbelief. Liam, the man who stole my father from me, now “owns” me, at least for the next twenty-four hours. The injusticeof it all screams in my soul as I burst into our house, sharing the unbelievable tale with my mom, whose face has now turned a fiery red, mirroring the storm inside my soul.

With trembly hands and eyes that have not stopped shedding tears, Mom and I call Dick, Jenny, and Lola—my brother and two sisters.

We quickly do a Zoom call so we are all together as we sort this conundrum out. I agreed to the charity auction to help our local hospital, now this.

“If he was half decent, he would just write the check but let me off the hook,” I cry to no one in particular—pixels on my screen—wondering how I’m going to escape this nightmare.

“I don’t see him doing that . . . the man has no soul,” Lola says, her reaction coming across a little choppy because she is driving.

“What are you thinking of doing, T?” My brother Dick asks, his voice mirroring the anger in my heart right now.

“I have to go. This is for charity,” I say dejectedly. Normally, I would have a bit more fire and spirit in me, but I am beat. My body is tired, my spirit is tired, my soul is tired. My mother is dying. That’s why I’m here. I came to supervise her entry into the hospice system. I never thought it was possible to hate Liam and the entire Dexter tribe more . . . I was wrong. There is room. For the Dexters, there will always be room for more hate.

My number one wish on this earth is to round them all up and throw them in a lake full of hungry crocodiles.Are there crocodiles in America, or just alligators?

As Saturday evening approaches, dread and anticipation tango in my stomach as I wait for my brigade to converge at Mom’s house. I’m not meeting that oaf by myself. I have solicited thehelp of all my siblings—a form of punishment, some might say. Alone, I might feel intimidated by Liam’s entitled, arrogant, domineering disposition, but the four of us, together on the attack . . . we are like a pack of wolves. If he has ever wondered what a million dollars can buy in this current recession, then this is it . . . today, he gets to find out.

I gather my siblings for a pre-date briefing, the living room transforming into a makeshift war room as we strategize the night ahead. Our intention is to make the evening as uncomfortable as possible by bringing up every accusation, both fair (involving my dad) and even unfair, that Liam and his family have ever faced.

Dick, the lawyer, takes charge of presenting the “evidence” against Liam, listing his alleged crimes in full detail. We all nod in agreement.

Dressed in our finest “date sabotage” attire, Dick, Jenny, Lola, and I form a united front at the restaurant entrance half an hour before the agreed time. We’ve nicknamed our mission “Operation Sibling Front.”He takes one of us down; he takes us all.

The seating arrangement, once Liam turns up, becomes a comical spectacle, with Dick puffing his chest out while insisting on sitting between Liam and me, claiming brotherly protection. He vocalizes his displeasure of being here, using very colorful language our mother wouldn’t approve of, as Liam pulls out his own chair.

"Lovely venue, isn't it? Thank you all for coming," Liam says, sitting himself down, but Dick is not into small talk. He cuts to the chase.

“This is not a social gathering, Liam. A decent man could have just cut the check without insisting on this . . . Why didn’t you? Were you expecting to get in my sister’s—”

Dick's obvious unsaid string of obscenities is cut off by our server, who appears with the menus and a basket of freshly baked baguettes . . .the evil mansaved by the bread.

"So, Liam, what's going on here? Why are we here? What’s the real reason you threw a million bucks at the auction just to speak with my sister? Trying to buy your way into our good graces, and you thought she is the weakest link . . . the easy one to manipulate?"

“Hey.” I cry.

“I have things I need to discuss with Tony. It's not about buying anything." Liam says, and there seems to be a slight change in his demeanor. It is not so obvious . . . probably too subtle for Dick to notice, for Dick growls.

“You've got some nerve, Liam. After what you did to our family, do you think she wants to talk to you? I won’t allow it."

"You're not her gatekeeper—Dick. I think Tony has a tongue in her mouth. She can tell me herself if she doesn’t want to talk to me, and I don't need your permission to speak to her."

“Anything you’d like to say, dear sis? Are you just going to sit there saying nothing? This was your ‘date,’” Dick snarls at me, his eyes narrowing. “Tell him how you fucking feel!”

Dick’s voice drips like shards of glass with each syllable as our waiter walks away, every word dripping with venom aimed straight at Liam, at me, at the world. Can words really mend my broken heart? Seeing Liam . . . being this close to him, all I wish for him is to have an undiagnosed cataclysmic allergic reaction to shellfish and for the restaurant to serve him a boatload of the poison.

My sisters, giving up on me, follow Dick’s lead, Telling Liam exactly what they think of him, their voices sharp and accusatory, everybody spewing all the venom we’d rehearsed back in the house as we planned our attack.

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