Page 116 of Demise

“Fine. But we’re leaving now, and you’re driving,” I say as I brush past him.

“Anything for you, siren.”

I tried to say goodbye to the guys, but none of them were downstairs. I don’t know if they already left to start their day or slept in. I’ll call them later. For now, I’m walking up to Salem’s Country Club, feeling insecure as ever. I shouldn’t though, posh superiority is what I specialize in. A London boarding school education really teaches you a thing or two. That, and having Henry Parris as your father.

The hostess smiles at me, guiding me through the restaurant before I can even give her my name or Liam’s mother’s. Which, I guess I should start calling her—

“Alison,” I greet with a polite smile.

“Ah, Skyla.” She smiles as she stands from her chair, giving me air kisses before taking her seat once more.

“Thank you for joining me,” she says as she takes a sip of her coffee.

“Thank you for the invitation.” I smile as the waiter steps in.

“Hello ladies, my name is Cara, I’ll be your server. Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea, mimosa?” she asks me.

“I’d love a coffee, black. Thank you.” I smile and nod.

She steps away with a nod and heads back to the kitchen as Alison makes a sound.

“I’d have thought you’d choose tea, given your upbringing.”

I smile through the stereotype. Though yes, many people that reside in London drink tea, it’s not a requirement. Steph and I always preferred coffee anyways.

“I’ve always preferred coffee,” I say, and she hmphs but doesn’t say anything.

Slowly, my smile falls as the server comes back with my coffee and takes our orders. I decide on half a sandwich and a bowl of soup while she tuts and gets a Caesar salad, no dressing, no croutons and no cheese….so, romaine lettuce.

“Always have to look good for our husbands, do we not?” she asks with a raised brow, the barb very clear.

I smile and nod. “Asher certainly has no complaints, thankfully.” I throw back.

Her eyes rake over me, that plastic smile intact as she nods.

“I’m sure not.”

An awkward silence descends over us before I try to break it.

“So, what do you do for work?”

She releases a condescending laugh like I’m hilarious.

“Sweet girl, I don’t work. No wife of the Brethren, let alone an Elder’s wife, works.”

“Oh, I wasn’t sure.”

Again, awkward silence.

“Well, what do you like to do with your time?” I ask again.

She takes a sip of her coffee, resting it down to the table as she speaks.

“I organize a lot of parties for the Brethren, galas, functions. That’s all me. Christopher hands me his card and says make it look nice,” she gushes.

I’m almost sad for her that being Christopher’s henchwoman is the most exciting thing she does with her time. I guess if she’s happy though, that’s what matters.

“Well, from the parties I’ve been to, you’ve done a wonderful job.”

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