Page 20 of Catfish

“Maybe because they’ll embarrass the fuck out of me?” I censure, feeling a vein in my head about to explode. “Or the simple fact that—“

“They won’t be there. I just need—”

“You’ve met my mother, right? Nora Lockwood, the biggest pain in the balls this side of the Appalachian Mountains?”

“I’m not scared of your mother,” Em counters, matching her brows with my own.

“No, I’m scared of my mother. That woman will sacrifice kittens to make shit happen. She will shove herself into a fucking suitcase just to get inside. I wouldn’t be surprised if my mother shot someone just to get past them to get anywhere near me. The woman is fucking psycho.”

“Wade...we have security. No one is getting anywhere without blowing the place up.”

The sound of the airplane's engine is the only thing between us, and I hate that I'm putting Em in a fucked-up situation that is my family.

Other shit, I expect her to deal with, but my mother, I'd never be able to afford Em if it came with the job description.

“I’ll do what I can,” Em states. “Give me some time to think of...something.”

“I’ll take care of my mother,” I contend, rolling my shoulders. “You have enough shit to do.”

"Okay...you're on mom duty, and I'm on everything else." She breaks for a pause then adds in, "And you're on Chase detail."

Just as she stresses his name, he plops down again next to me, this time with my drink and one for Em in his hand. He reaches out for her to take, but she waves it off.

“Too busy, but thanks.”

Chase shrugs her off, taking a sip of her wine before propping his leg up on one knee. “What’d I miss?”

“My mother,” I deadpan.

Chase cringes outwardly. "Oww, fuck that. What is she trying to set you up with now?"

“My brother and sister coming to the fundraiser,” I snarl, savoring a generous swig of my whiskey. “She wants a family front, I’m sure.”

“Isn’t Lucas in rehab? I swear he texted me last week and told me he was checking in.”

“And he probably checked right back out when he found out that they didn’t offer five-course meals and smoking inside the facility.”

“And your sister? I haven’t heard from her in...shit, awhile.”

“Probably fucking a doctor to get her prescriptions filled.”

“Chase, are you going to be attending the fundraiser?” Emmy Lou inquires. “I know you said you just got assigned a case.”

“I’ll try, beautiful. Depends on how this case goes.” Disregarding his comment, she continues scribbling in her binder. “What does your dad say about all this?”

“I’ve been avoiding his calls,” I allude. “Thinks I need three more assistants and a damn blimp to get my point across and win over more support.”

“I know you hate him, dude, but maybe some of his experience could play to your advantage.”

“I don’t need it. I have votes in my back pocket with my name written all over them.”

“Just watch yourself, brother,” Chase warns. “Some might not stay true to their word.”

My phone buzzes in the front pocket of my suit. “That’s why you’re my best friend. You can get me out of a bind if I get myself into one.”

“Ah, there’s the dickhead I love,” he chuckles. “Love you too, man.”

Typing in my password, twenty-three text messages await me, but only one sticks out off my Google Voice app—Reagan's.

---