Page 44 of Shane

“You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“And she’ll cancel becauseyoutold her to?”

“Please,” he scoffs. “You haven’t met Kate Sullivan yet. I can’t tell my mother to do anything.”

“Then how–”

“You never said I had to reveal my methods.”

“You don’t. It’s just…I’m impressed.”

“Well, that’s understandable. I’m an impressive motherfucker.”

“Calm down, okay, you’re not all of that.” The lie rolls effortlessly off my tongue, but the truth is that there are things I like about Shane.

Lots of things.

“You’ll find out soon enough just how impressive I am, beautiful. Enjoy Thanksgiving dinner and be ready by eight on Friday.”

Then, Shane unceremoniously ends the call.

And finally…I can sleep.

kennedy

I havea bird’s eye view of Shane as he works the room of the party. He’s taller than most of the people down there and dominates the space like he’s somebody famous.

I’m sitting high on the staircase, sipping a Coca-Cola, as I watch people who are clearly his friends flock to him. He has brief conversations with each person, making them at least smile and some of them laugh, but then always checks to see if I’m still sitting where he left me.

I offer a small head nod to reassure him that I’m fine when, in fact, I’m not. But a deal is a deal, and thanks to Shane, I had a quiet Thanksgiving with my father, his sister (Auntie Cynthia), and two of my cousins. Later, I had dessert at my mom’s house with her and her best friend, Miss Janine. It wasn’t what I was used to, but it wasn’t terrible, and at least I spent my Thanksgiving holiday with family whom I love and not Shane and his seductress of a mother.

After hugging a very pretty girl with perfect skin and long, honey-blonde braids to her ass, Shane says hello to the people sitting below me and takes a seat next to me on the step.

“You’re being a little antisocial sitting over here by yourself.”

“I don’t know any of these people, Shane.”

“I would introduce you if you’d let me.”

“I’m fine sitting here and watching you work your magic.”

“I can get you a beer or something,” he offers. “All you’re drinking is that Coke?”

“I’m good.”

“When we met, I watched you toss back drink tequila shots at four different bars.”

“You obviously weren't paying that close attention.”

“Are you kidding?” He looks at me like I’ve said something ridiculous. “When you're around, I’m always paying attention.”

“That’s a very Shane thing to say, but while you were the one who ordered the shots at The Pike, I was the drink runner for my friends for the rest of the night.”

“And, so?” he leans closer, seemingly interested in where my story is going. “What’s your point?”

“At the next few stops, I had the bartenders pour me mostly water shots.”

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