Page 3 of Sweet Little Thing

“Three plus Jasper,” I responded, glancing up from the last of the omelets.

“The little shit. He could’ve told me he was bringing home friends. I wasn’t prepared to entertain anyone.” She paced back and forth a few moments and took a drink from the glass in her hand. It was a whiskey glass from the bar, brimming with amber liquid. I was wrong. It seemed she did have whiskey in the house.

“Are they all in the pool house?” she asked, staring towards the door that led in that direction as if she wanted to escape.

“Yes, they are,” I responded.

She sighed. “Well, at least there’s that. They can drink and throw parties out there. I thought his days of bringing home his buddies were over, but apparently not. It’s time he assumed his responsibilities, but then no, he brings home. . .” Portia waved her drink in the direction of the pool house and added, “. . .them, he brings home them.”

Personally, I had a ton of questions. Like, for example, who owned this house? Did she owe someone money? Didn’t she expect Jasper to briefly visit and leave as quickly as possible? What responsibility did he have? Did Jasper control his own mother? And if so, how and why? I didn’t ask any of them. Portia would shut me down. I knew that. But the niggling fear that Heidi and I weren’t secure like I had assumed wouldn’t go away.

Just as I put fresh berries on their plates, they came back inside the house. I could hear them talking as their voices carried down the hallway. I would serve them, find out what they wanted to drink, and then go about the rest of my day. Hopefully, I didn’t have to go into the pool house and clean it while they ate.

“Go feed them,” she said, pointing in the direction of their voices. “Then, once they’re otherwise occupied, go and prepare the pool house. Buy them more food and stock the bar out there. The less time they spend here, the better for you and me.” With that, she spun on her heels, sashaying from the kitchen, but not before dumping her drink. She didn’t want Jasper to see her drinking whiskey, it seemed, and I would guess, especially before noon.

I took the first two plates and followed behind her into the dining room.

“Hello, Jasper. I’m sorry I wasn’t ready for your early arrival,” Portia pretended to be happy to see him. “Sterling, Tate, Winston, I’m so glad you boys could come. I trust you’re all doing well?”

Jasper, Sterling, Tate, and Winston? Did these people not haveany Henry’s or Chad’s, Jack’s, Tim’s or David’s? I’d never heard names like theirs. However, my own senior class had multiple Henry’s, three Chad’s, a pair of Jack’s, and two tall David’s. But then again, my name was Beulah, so who was I to talk? I was named after a hymn. My sister had the better name. Hers was gentle and fit her perfectly. If the world could love like her and find joy the way she did while smiling her full-faced grin, we’d all be better for it.

“Yes, ma’am,” the ginger one responded. I wasn’t sure which one he was. “Mother said the two of you won your tennis match last week. Congratulations on that.”

Portia played tennis daily. Her multiple outings with friends included time at her club. She beamed at his recognition. I noticed Jasper slightly rolled his eyes. They then locked with mine, and he winked. I jerked my gaze away and sat the food in front of ginger and the brooding dark-haired elitist who looked down his nose as if no other human could rise to his level or ever hope to surpass his brilliance.

“Thank you, Tate. We deserved it, of course. Camille and I have worked so hard.”

I left the room to get the other two plates while Portia talked about her tennis game and training. When I returned with the last of the food, Portia had taken a seat at the end of the table opposite Jasper.

“I’ll need a fresh cup of coffee,” she informed me.

“About that. What happened to Ms. Charlotte? And who is she?” Jasper asked. I didn’t look his way, although my entire body tensed. He wasn’t pleased I was here. I’d done everything he’d asked of me so far, but that didn’t seem to matter. He had referred to me as athat.

“Charlotte retired,” replied Portia. “Moved to be near her grandchildren. She was getting on up in age. I needed more help than she was able to provide, so I. . .”

Jasper then interrupted. “You didn’t think to ask me before replacing her?” The tone of his voice was coarse. Not the kind from a son to a mother. It was threatening, corrective, and harsh. Like a boss to an employee.

“Don’t be so damn rude to your mom,” the one she had addressed as Tate said. I had to agree with him. Portia wasn’t the nicest woman I knew, but she’d taken Heidi and me in her care without a question or an explanation as to why she was doing it. However, Jasper ignored the comment and continued glaring in her direction. He then turned his attention to me. “We’ll need drinks if we don’t want to choke.”

I felt my face heat from his nasty tone. “I’m sorry,” I said, “I was waiting for your conversation to end before I asked what I could get you to drink.”

“It’s okay, love,” one of the guys told me. “He’s testy because Maisie broke things off while she’s in Europe for the summer. He’ll mend his broken heart soon enough and be as charming as ever.” He flashed me a smile that could only be described as flirty. “I’m Sterling and I happen to be really happy with Portia’s replacement decision.”

I wasn’t sure if I should respond to him, although he seemed friendlier than I had anticipated any of them to be.

“Maisie broke things off? Do her parents know?” Portia sounded horrified as she spoke up.

“Mother, she’s twenty-two. I don’t think it matters if her parents know or not…now, can we drop the subject?”

“I’ll take a black coffee,” Sterling said, a smile broadening across his face.

“Same,” Tate added from across the table, raising his hand like a child.

“Milk,” Jasper blurted, a small apologetic smile touching his lips, his anger dissipating from the moment before.

I looked toward the one that made me most uncomfortable. Hehad to be Winston. It was the only name listed that hadn’t been claimed yet. His boredom made me feel as if he quietly judged everyone. “Water,” he said without making any eye contact.

I hurried from the table with their drink orders. When I began waiting tables at Pizza Pit four years ago, I’d been thrilled to get the job. Now, I was thankful I had that experience because never once in those years of daydreaming did I think I’d be waiting on people like this. I was supposed to be in college getting my nursing degree, my mother should still be there when I came home—asking about my day, happy to hear it all, even down to what I’d had for lunch. We would’ve both been there for Heidi.

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