Page 109 of Snake

Mason

It was when the waitstaff brought out the Mississippi mud pie that things got interesting. I’m not a huge fan of politics. I should be, because it’s what gave my family such a massive head start in this town, but honestly I leave shit like that to Knox and Silas to figure out.Petty infighting doesn’t seem as important when you’ve studied the laws of the universe.

Maybe that’s why so much of the initial back-and-forth between everyone at the table is just white noise as I dish up helpings of lavender honey duck and new potatoes.

The gist of it comes down to this: Donatella Galanti, Geri Furino, Jet Hart, Vicky Zara and Nim’s parents were close friends during college.

There’s some photo Nim keeps referring to, the one she says was taken at the stables. Now this photo was apparently shot the day before the Feast of Ashes dance back in Vicky and friends’ senior year.

Jet and Ophelia were crowned King and Queen of the Ashes at that dance. Which surprised both of them, because they’d never even met. A year later, they were married. Whether they were happy with this or not isn’t clear. Looking at the couple now, they have this easygoing connection that I’m sure would form with any two people forced to spend a life in close proximity, but I see very little handholding and kissing. Maybe it’s because they have better manners than I do—I’m having to restrain myself from playing footsie with Nim under the table—or maybe it’s because their relationship is purely transactional.

Raw deal for both of them, if that’s the case.

I can see Knox getting more and more fidgety. He’s surprised me, today. I’ve been waiting for him to interrupt every few seconds, but he’s been biting his tongue since we sat down. I’m sure he’s going to have a heart attack soon, though, because unless I missed it while I was chewing on a salad, the Harts and Furinos haven’t really cleared up much yet.

But then the pie arrives.

Nim looks at it like it must be poisoned, pushing it away with a grimace.

I perk up at this, frowning. Why is my baby girl not eating? I’ve been eye-fucking her through lunch, leering at her every time she absently puts something between her lips and half-heartedly chews at it. I get that she’s not really getting into the spirit of things, but to say no to dessert?

My fist thumps down on the dining room table. More of a banquet table, if you ask me. I’m sure you could get twenty people around it if they didn’t mind bumping elbows.

“Listen, not to be rude—” although I know I am “—but could you get to the point? Nim’s been waiting weeks for answers.”

There’s a heavy silence after that. Almost everyone puts down whatever they’d been holding to pick up their wine or whiskey glasses.

Donatella and Jet share a look, then Jet and Ophelia, before Vicky clears her throat and says, “Could everyone except Nim please excuse us?”

That raises a whole bunch of eyebrows, mine included. Jet’s son, Gray, gives his father a double take, but he’s the first one to stand. Romi is right behind him, throwing a nervous glance over at Nim. But me, Silas, and Knox? We stay right the fuck where we are.

“Please, sweetie,” Vicky says quietly. “This is—”

“I don’t keep secrets,” Nim cuts in, her voice surprisingly firm. “Not from them.” There’s a beat as she gives us each a glance, and then she adds, “Not anymore.”

“This is a private matter—” Ophelia begins, sounding almost miffed that Nim dared to question their authority. But then Jet lays a hand over hers and she stiffens up like he slapped her.

“Cinderhart does love its secrets,” Jet says. He scans everyone seated at the table before locking eyes with his wife. “But we agreed things were going to change around here.”

Ophelia purses her lips, looking strangely concerned, but then gives him a firm nod. Gray and Romi sink back into their seats.

Jet turns back to the table, his eyes fervent as he looks over at Nim. Donatella plucks up her wine glass, draining half of it in one long swallow, and then quickly dabs a napkin against her mouth. She’s a delicately shaped woman, with brown hair and green eyes—from what I can make out on this side of the table, anyway. I can see the resemblance between her and Romi at a glance, although Romi has Geri’s chocolate-brown eyes.

“Ophelia is my wife,” Jet says, his voice firm, then wavering, then firm again. “But she wasn’t my first love.”

Geri grabs Donatella’s hand, squeezing it. She’s staring at Nim with big eyes, seeming entranced.

I carve off a thin slice of mud pie and pop into my mouth, and Silas throws me a scowl at the sound of my dessert fork scraping against the plate.

“Dona and I were dating in secret for almost three years before Ophelia and my engagement was announced.”

Knox sits back in a rush, blinking wildly for a moment. Even Nim’s lips are starting to peel open.

Now I wish I did know more about Cinderhart politics, because I’m obviously not getting it.

But then Jet looks at Donatella, and he gives her this sad little smile, and it all falls into place like the last block in a Tetris game you’re sure you were going to lose until just the right shape came along.

“Dona was two months pregnant with you when that photo was taken. We had no choice. We had to—” Jet says, and then his voice closes up.

---